Bedtime Stories
by RayShippouUchiha
Summary: Born of tragedy, raised in the fires of Hell, he walks through the valley of the shadow of death and fears that he is evil. When bedtime stories are long since over Jim Kirk struggles to survive. *Abuse, Tarsus, use of Vulcan, grim!feral!Jim, Spirk,
1. Beauty and the Beast

AN: My first trip into the new _Trek_ universe so please be gentle. Also all unfamiliar words shall be featured in a small translation section at the end of the chapter. Thank you for your time.

Summary: _Because Jim misses bedtime stories and a life like this should not be real, but it is so he copes the only way he knows how._

Warning: This is not a happy story, or at least not for Jim in the beginning. Beware of angst, mentions of abuse, an extremely large section on Tarsus IV, and Kirk/Spock. Jim will also be slightly out of character since I intend to make him a bit more on the grim side.

Disclaimer: If I owned it…..well let's just say that no one anywhere would ever doubt that Kirk/Spock was canon.

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Beauty and the Beast

* * *

He was little more than a baby when the parts of his brain just seemed to _connect _and life became so much more for him than it ever should have been for a child his age. He learned things so much quicker, was so much faster than he should have been, so much _more_ that it frightened his so called family. He learned to walk, to talk, to run and play and generally _be_ too fast, too well and too _soon_.

When he was two and his mother walked in on him reading alone in his room from one of the books that held their bedtime stories she had smiled, that same smile she always had when she saw him, the one that was so beautiful, so bright, the one he would later imitate after he learned just how wrong and fake it was. It slipped off her face quickly when she realized that he was actually _reading_, not pretending like she had thought he was, hoped he was. She had praised him, her voice strangled and her face pale before she had left the room.

The bedtime stories stopped after that night but that was alright for him because he was two and he could read them himself so he didn't need his mother to do it for him. He was two and no matter how much knowledge he had already packed away he was still little more than a baby so he did not realize yet just how _wrong_ he was to everyone else. He did not realize that he was not normal, that the other kids he sometimes saw were nothing like him. He did not realize how much he would later come to miss those bedtime stories.

He was four when he noticed for the first time that his mother would not look him in the eye; that the smiles he received from her were different than the ones his brother Sam got. Less right somehow, more brittle and strained than happy and radiant. He no longer loved her smile as he did only two short years ago, instead he hated it, wanted nothing more than to receive a smile that was at least equal to the one that Sam got for just walking into a room.

He tried everything he could think of, tried being better at everything he did, quicker with his chores and his reading, faster with the things he sometimes did to the old electronics around the house. Anything to make her look at him the way she looked at his brother.

Nothing ever worked and so he started to smile just like she always did.

He was five years old when he finally learned the truth. Five when he sat in the back of his primary school classroom for the first time and heard the teacher call the name James Tiberius Kirk from the role. Five when he looked up at the sea of faces around him to find the boy that shared his last name. Five when he realized for the first time that his name was _James _and not _George_. He went home that day, confused and angry, determined to get to the bottom of the situation and yet smart enough to know better than to ask. Five when finally, finally he learned about his father, about the _past_, about the fact that Sam's name was actually George. Only five as he stared at a holo-vid about the _U.S.S Kelvin_ and something within him seemed to click as if to say, _'Oh so this is the reason…this is the reason why she doesn't love me.'_

He was five when he decided to never mention the fact that he knew the truth.

Six is when he breaks that promise, breaks it into a million pieces like Winona _because after that day she isn't his mother, has never been his mother, he's an orphan with a family_ has just broken him. When all he wants for his birthday is a hug and a smile, something she hasn't given him since the bedtime stories stopped, and instead he gets a backhand that has him tasting blood and a snarl of a name that isn't his.

At six he snaps and yells at her that he isn't George he is _James_, that there is just _James_ and _Sam _and that the real George is _dead…dead…dead and never coming back_. She hits him again and his thoughts fuzz out as his head hits the counter and all he can see is that beautiful woman who gave birth to him but has never been his mother as the black closes in around the edges.

He hasn't aged any when he comes to on the kitchen floor, his hair matted down with blood and sweat, to the sounds of laughter and voices in the background, to the sight of Winona and Samuel _because he thought Sam loved him but he doesn't cause he left James there in full sight bleeding on the floor and that isn't love _sitting in the den calmly watching a holo-vid together like everything was perfect. He claws his way to his feet and stumbles to the bathroom, taking in the sight of his very first black eye and split lip. The water from the sink stings and burns but the blood comes off and swirls down the sink in such a beautiful pattern that he is transfixed.

Later after he looks up head wounds on his data pad and sets the alarm for every two hours _because he isn't stupid and he knows the blood in his hair is a bad sign and he doesn't want to die_ he lays in his bed and can not ignore the throbbing in his face or the voice that whispers in the back of his mind that tells him this is only the beginning.

When he turns seven he doesn't ask for a hug or a smile, he doesn't ask for anything from the strangers who live with him because they have nothing he wants _that's not the truth they just have nothing they're willing to give._ Instead he reads articles about Schizophrenia because that whisper he heard before has become a full grown voice in his head and he is frightened. He doesn't tell anyone _because James knows better by now and he knows he isn't crazy_. The voice is nice, soothing and deep and he likes to listen to it. Likes when it talks to him in a language that he doesn't recognize or understand but thinks is beautiful, loves the fact that he isn't alone anymore even if he can't see who is talking to him, because for the first time in his life he feels loved and that is all that matters.

He barely looks up when Winona and Samuel leave one day and come back two weeks later, tan and smiling with a man named Frank, who is Samuels' new stepfather _not James because James knows when he lays eyes on him that Frank won't love him either, he's an orphan in a house with two parents now._ Instead he continues to work on the replicator that he has been trying to fix and ignores the fact that he ran out of food two days ago and they would not have cared even had they known.

He doesn't even flinch when he finds out that Winona is leaving for space, and Samuel is going into a special science program in some city that isn't here and it is going to be just James and Frank. It doesn't really bother him because he is used to being alone now, alone with no one except for that voice in his head.

He does flinch when that first boot finds his ribs, when that fist plows into his exposed stomach and he feels the bile rise up in his throat. Frank is drunk and all he can do is wrap himself into a ball as the blows rain down, a punishment for not bringing the beer soon enough, for being worthless, for being a useless little _bastard_. He curls in on himself both physically and mentally, reaching his mind out to that voice that always comforted him, sending his pain and anguish across the link in hopes that some how someone will hear him, that there is someone actually _there_ to hear him.

'_Nam-tor karik.'_ It floats across his mind. He doesn't understand it, doesn't know what it means but the sheer fact that someone or something answered him at all makes the situation just a little bit more bearable. It feels like it goes on forever, as if time has no meaning at all and that Frank will never tire of raining blows down upon his unresisting body. He does though, finally the alcohol he consumed and the sheer amount of energy he expended on the boy catches up with him and he stumbles away. He leaves James there _just like Winona and Samuel left him there not so long ago_ and goes back to watching his program, another full beer clasped firmly in hand.

It takes James a while, takes him hours actually, but he manages to crawl and claw his way back to his room, manages to get the door shut before his strength gives out completely and all the while those same unknown, beautiful words ring in his head.

'_Nam-tor karik.'_

They are all that gets him through the night.

That wasn't the first time he had been beaten _no Winona had that honor, that pleasure of being the first to draw blood_ and it was by no means the last. They happened in no discernable pattern, he did not provoke Frank on purpose, did not antagonize the man with intent. He mostly stayed out of his way, stayed away from everyone, as often as he could, which was never often enough to avoid the beatings. He stayed outside, in the fields and plains of Iowa, stayed away from people to the point that he hardly ever spoke anymore, hardly ever laid eyes on another soul outside of school.

That had been a disappointment as well.

For all that the halls of his educational facility was full of people, adults and children alike, no one there saw him either. They saw his test scores, his genius level abilities, his hair dyed almost hyper glow blonde by the sun, his laser sharp blue eyes and yet they overlooked the bruises, the sharp weary look that no child should possess, the almost wolf-like tendency to circle others, the subtle and yet noticeable traits of self-preservation. He realized quickly that they saw, that they knew the truth, but that they did not wish to be involved.

So he never reached out, never asked for help because he already knew it would not come _because Winona had left and Samuel had left and if they could not love James then no one else here would either._

Instead he buried himself in data pads, learned to learn for the sake of knowledge, and learned that you never knew what you would need in the future. He learned things no child his age should try to. He learned anatomy _because one day Frank would go too far and he needed to know where to strike, what would kill and what he could live through, what parts of himself he needed to protect because no one else would_ and how to sew _because he could not always bandage the wounds to stop the bleeding, burning them shut was too risky and Frank would never spend his money on modern medical supplies_. He taught himself about fishing and camping, how to start fires and find water, how to build shelters and how to read tracks.

He taught himself how to survive and he bided his time because he knew that the day would come and he would need it, but he isn't sure if he can survive Frank for long enough to get out, doesn't know if he will live to see his next birthday.

He does.

He turns eight and Frank breaks the fingers on his left hand under the heel of his boot as his present. He turns eight and later that night he sits in his room bare-chested with a knife as blood flows in a steady trickle across his pectoral muscles as slowly he carves his flesh until words begin to take form.

'_Nam-tor karik.'_ When he is finished he finally has a physical reminder of the words that meant so much to him. Though he is happy to have them he is tired from the blood loss and knows that he will have to be extra careful to avoid Frank for the next while. He does not know how he knows the correct spelling, still does not know what they mean, does not know the language, and as smart as he is it should be no trouble for him to find out what it is. James chooses not to know _because what if they aren't real, what if the language does not exist, better to have this hope then none at all if it isn't real_ and makes it a point not to study languages too extensively when he begins to absorb all the knowledge he can find.

Instead he throws himself into gadgets and technology as well as his studies of the wild. He learns to make vibrating proximity alarms that would wake him if Frank entered his room _because it was never good to sleep around Frank, sleep was vulnerability and he scented that like a shark to blood_ and how to make small short ranged listening devices.

He does not yearn for Winona and Samuel to return, does not spend his time wishing they would come back so the day that they do arrive is a bit of a shock to him. He was in the attic when he heard the front door slam, which was a surprise since he knew that Frank was in the den watching another holo-vid. He had crept downstairs, quiet as a wraith only to freeze at the sight of the two other members of the house hold, both looking well and fit sitting in the den as if they had never left. He is angry then, angry that they came back after leaving, angry that only he suffered.

They stay for two weeks before leaving for their respective new lives. He sees them, they never see him.

It goes on much like normal for him after that. He goes to school and learns at home, he avoids Frank and is beaten; he teaches himself to survive and fears that his soul dies a little more with each passing day.

All the while that voice whispers to him words that he does not understand, things that should have no meaning to him and yet do.

'_Nam-tor klon.'_ It is a whisper.

'_Nam-tor karik.'_ It is a plea in his ear, his beloved words spoken again.

'_Dungau-sarlah nash-ven.'_ It is a promise that he knows not the meaning of, only the feeling.

'_Rish-tor.'_ It is a demand and something in it rings in his heart and instantly that word is elevated upwards to rest beside his most treasured phrase.

For his gift of nine years he carves that word into his chest on the opposite side from the ones the year before, this word nestled directly above his heart. Frank only gifts him with some broken ribs and luckily James is able to protect them enough to stop his lungs from being punctured.

So he is nine and life is as normal for him as it gets until the day that he begins to consider the option of not living any longer. He is flying down the road in his fathers' old car, his father's not Frank, and he just wants it all to stop _because Frank had tried to touch him, not beat him but to touch him and oh God he would never be clean again_ and knows that somehow this road will take him there. There is a cop and a quarry and for longer than a moment, almost too long, he wants to go over the side until he hears his voice again, that wonderful sustaining voice that screams at him.

'_Rish-tor.'_

So he jumps, he almost doesn't make it but in the end he does and the cop is waiting and asking his name and in that moment he feels almost proud because he is, "James Tiberius Kirk" and he wants the world to know it. He goes to jail for the first time and is left in the holding tank for two days before he is processed for a juvenile detention center. No one comes, no one calls, he knows from the judge that Winona had been informed and she had given the court permission to do as they saw fit _and James is not surprised because she has never cared so why would she start now_.

So he is processed and tagged with a locator chip around his neck in the form of a thin metal collar and sent into hell with boys twice his age. They laugh when they see him and begin to plot the best ways to make him suffer the way they all did when they first arrived. He knows what they are, hyenas circling a kill, scavengers in the night. Unfortunately they do not realize what he is, a fox too clever to be caught unaware, a wolf too vicious to be cornered and he would not go down without a fight. _James had always gone down easily before because Frank was too large to fight but these boys he could handle, he could protect himself here as he could not at home._

The irony did not escape him.

He stayed in his room that day, stayed and prepared _because he was smart and he knew that night would bring them out, eyes shining in the dark as they tried to hunt him down_ and he was ready for them when they came. His time had been spent wisely, braiding the shredded remains of a pillow case together until it was a strong durable rope, breaking the chair they placed in the room and sharpening the pieces left behind on the crude and antiquated frame of his new bed.

The first one that came through the door was larger than he was but he had a plan and the rope was almost too easy to get around his neck. It took remarkable little time or effort to increase the pressure and cut off the air supply to the other boys' brain before he went down. The other three met the sharp ends of his makeshift knives and quickly retreated, dragging their wounded with them.

He does not sleep that night.

Eventually he was overcome, never for long and never completely because the other boys were weary of him, of the small boy with quicksilver moods and feral eyes and after a startling short amount of time they left him alone. He buried himself in the study material the place offered, learned new and different things that had not been available to him before. He made weapons out of otherwise useless materials and learned to slink instead of move, to glide instead of walk, and to blend with the shadows at a moments notice.

His voice came to him less and less no matter how hard he reached for it, no matter how hard he yearned. Still he had his tattoos, the ones that he made sure to renew with his latest knife that next year for his tenth birthday _because he needed them so deep into his skin that they would never fade even if the voice did._

He amassed a reputation rather quickly. The guards and counselors knew that he could fix almost anything and the other tenants knew better than to bother him in case he decided he should hunt them.

The year that followed was rather pleasant all things considered and he was for once at peace with his situation, even if he was almost completely alone in every way _because the voice had begun to fade and even in a home full of misfits and rejects he is unwanted and unwelcome._

The system gave him a present that year for his eleventh birthday.

They send him home. Back to Iowa and Frank. The voice left him completely.

Things don't return to normal there, because James doesn't submit like he once did to the beatings, his internment had not mellowed him instead it had exacerbated his survival instincts. Frank would no longer look him in the eyes either though he knew it was out of fear for what he saw there. He tried to return to school but was not met with success _because he scared the other children and their parents and they treated him like an animal about to attack and maybe he was but they should have seen the abuse before he went feral to survive._

Instead Frank took to leaving for long periods of time, to going-to-who-knows-where with God-knows-who. That was fine with James because that meant he was free to make his own decisions.

That year was in some ways the best in his life and the worst in others _because he was safe from everyone else and no one was there to hurt him but the voice had left him and now he was utterly alone and abandoned. _

He turned twelve and Winona came back though Frank had been gone for almost two weeks. He did not hide from her this time; he wanted her to see what she had created. It didn't matter since she still would not look at him. Instead she told him of her divorce, that Frank had been stealing money from Samuel's tuition fund and that James was leaving Iowa to live on a colony that had been founded on another planet and would take him in provided he could work.

So at twelve James sets off for Tarsus IV.

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AN: I am in desperate need of some feedback on this. This was originally a long one shot but I have decided to do it in chapters instead so that I can get some opinions on the quality of this work so I do not waste my time on writing something that is poorly done.

Translations:

_Nam-tor karik_: Be strong

_Nam-tor klon_: Be smart

_Rish-tor_: survive

_Dungau-sarlah nash-ven: I shall come._


	2. The Pied Piper

Summary: _Because Jim misses bedtime stories and a life like this should not be real, but it is so he copes the only way he knows how._

Warning: This is not a happy story, or at least not for Jim in the beginning. Beware of angst, mentions of abuse, an extremely large section on Tarsus IV, and Kirk/Spock. Jim will also be slightly out of character since I intend to make him a bit more on the grim side.

Disclaimer: If I owned it…..well let's just say that no one anywhere would ever doubt that Kirk/Spock was canon.

AN: Okay first I must say that I am truly honored by the reviews and responses that I have received and offer my sincere thanks to all who took the time to do so.

Also to _LostSchizophrenic_ who was by their own admission too lazy to log in (=^.^=) this chapter is dedicated to that piece of soul you are so sure you lost!

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The Pied Piper.

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Life on Tarsus is strange because it is hard but good. He starts off living with a couple who work a mid-sized amount of farmland. He stays in the attic and tries his best to not be seen unless he is in the fields. The people that took him were kind, _Leo and Marixia are the kind of people he had always dreamed existed but was now too wounded to trust_ they loved each other and tried to treat him like their own but he had already been fooled in his lifetime and would not be again. Still the fact that they reached out for him soothes some part of his soul.

He still does not make friends, he is still too wolf like for the other adults to trust him and too grown in the worst ways for the other children his age to like him. His caretakers seem to realize his need for solitude and fix the small shed at the end of the property for him to live in, though they tell him he is always welcome to stay with them.

He declines.

So he keeps to himself like he always had in Iowa and life is alright but he is lonely _because the voice had left him and he was too damaged and soiled for real people to tolerate._ Three months in things change when he meets a small child by a riverbank, it is almost night and the child is crying and scared and James is furious, _who left him here he's a baby not like I was, they deserve to die for leaving him here alone like this_ but remains calm when he approaches the boy.

He goes slowly, like he is approaching a wounded but still dangerous animal _the way that people had always approached him_ making soothing noises in his throat and is surprised when the kid launches himself at James when he realizes he is not alone anymore. James stiffens because he is not used to positive physical contact but some feral part of him seems to recognize that this is a pup and that he needs to protect it _because no one had protected James and he would never let that happen to a pup if he could help it_ so he wraps the boy in a soothing embrace and carries him back to his shed careful not to be seen.

He holds him and offers him comfort the only way he knows how, with soft noises and a warm embrace and the boy finally calms and James can study him in the light. He is soft is the first thing James thinks, soft in a way he had never been, and still smells like sweet child so he knows that he has not been abandoned for long. His hair is a delicate golden brown and his eyes a sweet wide toffee as they stare up at him with curiosity and trust and James knows for the first time that savage need to protect someone other than himself.

His voice is rusty and deep with disuse but he still manages to make it work.

"What's your name kid?" The question sounds harsh and older than he is but the child just smiles delightedly at the sound of his voice.

"Kevin." Even his voice is childlike in a way that James has never been and it solidifies his choice to keep the child.

"How old are you Kevin?" He estimates the boy at around four since he seems to be so young at mind.

"Five." James is slightly shocked that he is still so innocent at such an old age _because James had never been that innocent_ and it once again hits home for him how very different he is.

"Why were you outside alone?" The question is spoken softly in an effort not to upset him although James has already formed his own opinions about the matter.

"I couldn' find ma paren's." His eyes well up with tears and his speech betrays his age and James knew he was right in the beginning and those people deserve to die for leaving a child this young alone _because James was different and he could survive at that age, Kevin can not_ and he does not like the sight of Kevin in tears.

"I'll look for them," he promises the child and he will look for them _because he is going to use his studies of anatomy to teach them how to treat a child_, "and for now you can stay with me alright?"

"Otay." The boy is all smiles now, tears dried tracks across his face as he stares at James. "Wha's your name?"

"James."

"Jhmes?" Kevin is cute as he wrinkles his nose at the way the word rolls in his mouth, too young to say it right and James knows that he will have to think of something else.

"Not exactly kid," the other boys smile dims and James finds he does not like that at all. "Call me J.T." It is a simply solution, James Tiberius broken down to two letters so that the young one could say it correctly.

"J.T.!"

"Yeah kid that's right."

A month passes by and J.T. watches Kevin grow before his eyes as he begins to teach him the things he had taught himself over the years, things about the wild and how to move to make less noise, small pieces about protecting himself. Kevin picks it up fast and J.T. is proud of him like no one had ever been proud of J.T. For the first time in years he reads bedtime stories to someone other than himself. He teaches him how to work in the fields and what plants to touch and what to stay away from, and in his distraction he fails to notice Marixia and Leo notice the child he is keeping.

So the next morning when two strangers come barreling onto the farm J.T. is caught off guard when they head directly to his shed followed by Marixia (because Leo is not home) where Kevin is still asleep. Caught off guard but not for long. Sprinting he is at the door before them, crouched, knife that he is never without in hand and a savage snarl twisting his too young features. At twelve J.T. knows that he will kill to protect his charge and nothing inside him rebels at the thought.

The adult's slow, confusion on their faces at the sight of the feral child before them, barring their way to the door. The man steps forward and then quickly back when a growl echoes from before him and he barely dodges the swipe of a deadly knife.

"James?" It is Marixia and she is confused and James snarls at her _because he had thought she loved children and how could she let these strangers come here like this_ and refuses to let anyone passed him.

The sound of a door creaking open behind him sends horror through his soul because now they would see Kevin and would know his face and that was never good _but he had never fought and protected someone else before so he needed to run, to escape to a place where he could protect the child._

"J.T?" The voice was soft and sleepy; having been awoken by what Kevin thought was an animal so he wanted his protector, his knight like in the story book that J.T. reads to him at bedtime.

"Kevin, go back inside." The voice was cold in a way that it had never been around the other boy and he blinked sleepily to clear his eyes.

"Kevin!" The joyous voice of a woman rang out across the landscape as Kevin took in the sight of his parents on the other side of his knight.

"Mama!" The boy rushed passed J.T. who made a move as if to stop him, panic on his face, but he had been caught off guard by Kevin rushing forward _because he had never ran to Winona like that and why would Kevin go to someone who abandoned him?_

J.T.'s stance did not waver in his confusion, the knife stayed firmly in hand and his eyes never left the adults before him, calculating what he needed to do to get Kevin back unharmed if they made the wrong move. The joyous reunion before him is enough to shock him slightly but not enough to make him let down his guard.

He hears Kevin telling the woman in his rushed and disjointed way about J.T. and how nice he was and how he protected him and read him stories and taught him things. He sees the man take a step towards the smaller boy and the growl that rips from his throat is enough to silence everyone _because he would not let that man near Kevin because he was big and strong and would do so much damage like Frank had to J.T. when he was small._

"J.T.?" It is Marixia and she seems to know that he prefers J.T. now because that is what Kevin calls him and she wants him to stay calm. "J.T. why didn't you tell us that you had Kevin? We could have told his parents." The statements are stern and almost disapproving _but what does she know about being abandoned and why would he tell those people who left Kevin where he was?_

"Why would I do that?" The question is genuine because he can not see why she would want Kevin to go back to people who don't want him.

"So that they would know he was alright and they could take him home." She speaks to him like he is a child and J.T. finds that he does not like that _because no one ever had before and he was far from a child now so it was insulting_.

"They left him there." He does not want to say it in front of Kevin, does not want to hurt the pup but he knew it was the truth. "Why would I give him back to people that abandoned him, I can take care of him just fine."

"Oh child…" the words are breathed out by the fair skinned woman who had still not released Kevin from her embrace.

The adult male speaks up for the first time, his voice a low husky pitch that J.T. is certain that Kevin will never obtain. "We didn't leave him kid I promise. He wondered away from our camp one night and we couldn't find him. We had given up hope and thought he was dead until Marixia called us up and told us you had him."

J.T. is not certain if that is true since he rarely leaves the farm and goes into the main settlement and besides he is not keen on trusting these strangers when it comes to Kevin.

"Kevin is that true?" His voice is soft pitched when he speaks to the child, unlike the snarling growl used when it is directed at the adults.

"Uh-huh." The smaller boy nods his head rapidly, not sure what is going on but he knows that he wants J.T. and his parents to like each other because he loves J.T. and doesn't want to lose him.

J.T.'s laser blue eyes catches and holds those of the woman who is cradling his pup and she feels herself tear up at the pain and wildness that is barely concealed within them. "He got lost; you didn't get tired of him and leave him out there? You didn't abandon him?" The questions are sharp and to the point, a determined effort to get his answers straight out.

"Never. We would never abandon our baby."

"You want him and will protect him? Love him?"

Tears no longer held back rained down from her eyes as she swore with conviction. "Always."

Blue eyes are flame as they hold hers and he speaks again. "Good. If I ever find out otherwise I will hunt you and you will never lie again."

She believed him, knew in the depths of her soul that if they ever mistreated their child and this boy found out he would hunt them down and kill them. It frightened her that such a person was young enough to be her child himself. What had been done to this boy to make him believe such things would be necessary?

Flame softened and turned to ocean depths when they landed on the still form of Kevin, a smile stretched across his face, one that looked so beautiful and so wrong that the others could not help but be in awe.

A hand reaches out and the other boy darts forward without hesitation, ripping himself from his mother's arms and diving into J.T.'s as the other boy cuddles him close and eyes the adults with a still predatory gaze.

"Kevin you're going home now alright."

The other boy nods, his eyes happy to be back with his parents and yet sad to be leaving his J.T. behind.

"I want you to take this," a hand reached down and pulled another smaller knife from a sturdy boot, "it was going to be yours anyways." It is beautiful to Kevin who had always wanted one but was considered too young, the blade was thin but wicked and the handle carved with a beautiful shield.

"You never go anywhere without it alright. Remember what I taught you and if something happens you come here okay. You find me and I will protect you." The words are important to J.T. because he wants Kevin to have options he never had _wants him to know that he always has somewhere to run to_.

The smile he receives is so radiant that briefly he can not help but think of Winona when she looked at Samuel _because that is what love looked like and God he had always wanted to see it._

The three leave and J.T. can feel Marixia watching him in silence but he ignores her as he gazes at the fading figure of Kevin feeling a lose within himself that he had never experienced before _because he had never actually lost anyone who had loved him because Winona and Samuel never had_ and was not sure how to deal with it.

He does not expect to see Kevin again and is deeply surprised when he and his parents arrive on Leo and Marixia's farm a week later. The woman who he learns is called Kathleen smiles brightly at him and the man whose name is William gives a manly nod in his direction as Kevin launches himself into J.T.'s arms like he never left them.

All is where it should be in that moment.

Word spreads of J.T. through out their section of the colony quickly. They all remember the wild eyed boy that came to them, remembered how they could not help but recoil at the sight of him, so they are disturbed when they learn that he had been taking care of the missing Kevin Riley for over a month with no one the wiser. Neighbors flock to the Riley homestead and are shocked to see a smiling, tanned, and healthy child instead of the traumatized one they had been expecting.

William and Kathleen retell the story of finding their son and Kevin himself sings J.T.'s praises for all who can hear.

"He was like a little father protecting his child." Kathleen tells entranced neighbors one day at a fruit stand in town.

"No," William disagrees with her quietly, aware that he has the attention of all. "No he was like a Terran wolf protecting its pup. A wild thing protecting young."

Eventually the gossip dies down and people speak of it less but no one forgets it, no one forgets J.T.

Time goes quickly for J.T. for the first time in his life. He is happy in a way he had never expected to be, content to work on the farm during the day and teach himself at night from the material that Marixia and Leo were always bringing him. He enjoys the days that Kevin is allowed to spend with him on the farm, the nights where it seems as if the other boy had never left and J.T. teaches him survival and reads bedtime stories. Life on Tarsus IV is still hard but it has gone beyond good for J.T., beyond any happiness he had ever found before.

He thinks that maybe this is what it means to have a family _but he isn't sure because he has never had one before but he hopes it is because it feels so good and he isn't as lonely as he used to be even though he still misses the voice._

Slowly though things begin to change, the crops are not as bountiful as they were the year before so food is a bit tighter than it used to be. J.T. knows about the wildlife so he finds some plants and things to supplement with and he even leaves some for Marixia and Leo because they had not thrown him away yet and he knows how it feels to go without food. They tell him that it is alright because they have plenty for themselves, there are store houses of food for the colony and Starfleet would help them if things go wrong. He doesn't need to tell them he doesn't trust the situation, they can see it in his eyes.

They never get a chance to tell him he was right.

He is out one day on one of his treks through the surrounding woods when he hears the screams from the farm. Panicked he takes off running, _because oh God he didn't want anything to be happening to them and what if Kevin was there _speed and agility he had honed through years of abuse giving his feet wings as he sails over fallen trees and across babbling brooks. He slows when he gets closer to the edge of the woods, slows because the screams have faded and all he can hear is the quiet murmuring of voices. Quiet compared to the screams but loud in their own way since he can hear them clearly.

"Is there anyone else here? Tells us the truth and we'll make it easy." The voice is harsh, not the dulcet tones of Marixia or Leo that he had grown used to over the months. He sneaks closer and is able to see what is happening. Marixia is on the ground, her hands cradling Leo as he bleeds out into the dirt, J.T. can tell from the stain on his shirt and the pallor of his skin that the man is dying and his heart clenches as rage begins to fog his vision. There are two guards standing above them, he recognizes the uniform from the city and knows that they are not from their part of the colony, that they do not know of him, that the rumors have not reached that far yet. He knows that something has gone terribly wrong.

"There's no one here!" It's Marixia and she is crying, tears streaking her face to mix with blood that J.T. is not sure belongs to her or to Leo. He finally knows what it feels like to have someone love him like a parent _because she was lying to protect him and he could see that and he knew that he was going to loose her as well._

The guard fires once, a single shot to the head that sends her body down, blood mingling with her husbands and coating the soil that they had worked so hard to cultivate. J.T. is enraged _because they had killed the only parents he had ever almost had and he would make them pay, would take their lives in payment._

He waits in the woods as night slowly begins to fall, evening taking the light from day as the guards ransack the house, coming out with food and supplies before getting ready to leave. J.T.'s shed is on the property edge and looks abandoned so they ignore it and start on the long walk back to town. He circles them, making no noise, concentrating on the rhythm of their footstep, the sway of their rifles on their backs and the bags of stolen goods they cart between them. He waits for his chance and hopes it comes soon _because he has to get to Kevin, to make sure he is alright but he refuses to leave these two alive, will not leave until their blood soaks his hands._

They stop suddenly and one guard heads off just out of sight into the woods and J.T. follows and finds him pants unzipped and unaware. The knife that blossoms through his throat is a surprise and J.T. relishes the gurgle of chocked air that is his reward. He removes it, cleans the blade and puts it back in its sheath before wiping the blood that spills down his arm onto the soil below. He takes the rifle, a quick overview and remembered text tells him how to use it and he sets out after the remaining one.

The other guard is approaching from the road, wondering no doubt what was taking his partner so long and J.T. is pleased when he steps further into the enclosure of woods _because the longer he can hide the bodies the more time he has to work with._

The first shot catches him in the tender flesh of the thigh, J.T.'s aim is off since he had been aiming for his groin, but it takes him down anyways. The second hits his shoulder and the third his eye. The guard goes down and doesn't move. J.T. has taken two lives now and yet he can not bring himself to care _because it was only fair that he took their lives since they had already taken his._

He takes the other rifle and notes the location because he knows that he is going to need the food that they had stolen but first he needed to get to Kevin. So he takes off again, running this time and scared that perhaps he had wasted too much time in killing those men but determined to push on no matter what _because Kevin was his and he wasn't going to let anyone take him away_.

He isn't sure how long it takes him to get to the Riley homestead but it is dark and he can see the lights from his position so he slows down and sticks to the shadows. It is like déjà vu because he can hear voices in the wind and he knows that they don't belong to William and Kathleen and he can hear sobbing in the background and that he does recognize as Kevin's. He doesn't wait like he did last time; he knows that the guards will kill so he can't take the chance they will get to Kevin before he gets to them. Instead he flows out of the shadows, knife in hand and rifles across his back as he slinks forward until he is close to them, until Kathleen and William can see him even through the blood that coats their faces and Kevin's sobs are like drumbeats in his ears.

He attacks the first one before they notice him, sinking his blade deep in between a rib and ripping it out to slash at an exposed throat, a third life fades as easily as the first two he had taken that night. The fourth guard is a challenge since he gave up his element of surprise and the other man is trained and strong. His down fall is his arrogance, his belief that his partner died because he was unskilled and not because the child with the knife was smarter. J.T. takes a roundhouse kick that would have knocked a grown man out but he is used to those things, used to the pain of beatings and the opening it leaves he takes to his advantage. His knees find purchase in the guard's stomach as they tumble to the ground; his knife drives deep into sensitive flesh as his teeth lock down onto a murderous throat. He rides out the man's dying struggles until he is limp and all J.T. can taste is blood. It is his fourth kill of the night.

He rises like hell spawn, covered in blood and eyes as sharp as steel and before he takes a step his arms are full of sobbing child and hysterical whimpers.

He stares down at his Kevin, still the same sweetly innocent five year old that he had kept those months ago _but no Kevin is six now, six and not so innocent anymore and for that J.T. wants to kill those men again._

"Y-You came, you came…." The phrase is a sobbing litany in his chest as tears mingle with blood and dirt.

"I promised you I would Kevin. I always keep my promises." _Because no one had ever kept a promise to J.T. and he would never be like them._

He holds the child close to him, and over the sounds of his sobbing he can hear the rattling death gasps of bodies to his left and he knows that he was too late to stop the guards from taking William and Kathleen. Too late to stop the beating that had taken their lives, but he had been in time to save Kevin and for that he was grateful. So he cradles the boy to him, soothes him by whispering those words that had always given him comfort and plans what the next step is because there is always another step.

"_Nam-tor karik, _Kevin. _Rish-tor._" He still doesn't know what they mean but they still bring comfort and he can feel his heart and Kevin's beating against the tattoos on his chest and he knows in that instance what to do.

He pulls the child back from him and stares down into bright toffee eyes and smiles, a grotesque stretch of lips and teeth behind a mask of blood but it still calms the other boy because he knows that J.T. would never hurt him.

"Kevin I need you to be strong and listen to me okay?" He is gentle but still urgent. "You need to go inside, go straight inside and only look straight ahead until you get in the house and pack up all of the food you can alright? Get whatever you want from the house but try and pack light we don't have much time. Don't come back out I'll come to you." The child is confused but he trusts J.T. and with a nod he goes forward, eyes straight ahead and fixed on his open front door.

J.T. knows that the situation hasn't set in for Kevin, that it doesn't seem real and that eventually he will break down but he can't let that happen here, there is too much to do and not enough time to do it in. Hands steady he grabs a tarp from the nearby barn and covers William and Kathleen _because Kevin doesn't need to see anymore than he already has _and for a moment he is sad that he could not do so for Leo and Marixia_._ He can hear Kevin fumbling in the house as he efficiently strips the guards of everything that he deems might be useful. Pants, boots, packs, knives and rifles, he leaves their shirts because they are too full of blood and ripped to be saved, he puts it all in a pile before grunting he drags the bodies as deep into the shadows as he can, a hard task for a person his age. He goes through everything, throws out what is useless, pictures and empty packages, before repacking everything.

It's in those moments when he finds it, the order that had cost him his life and had tainted Kevin. The data pad was on, the screen undamaged when he came across it and the words caught his eye and he stopped to give them his full consideration. He does not read the entire thing because there isn't time but what he does will never leave his mind.

"_The revolution is successful. But survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV."_

J.T. is enraged because he knows now who is responsible for the carnage around him, whose hands are coated with the blood of his almost family. He knows that his anger will help him, will be an aid to him in the days to come so he cradles it to his breast and nurses it with his soul but does not let it over take him because he still needs to think and do. Instead he strides towards the house and quickly sets about helping Kevin in his tasks and when they are finished he takes all but the smallest pack from the child and shoulders them himself.

He sets a hard pace for them, almost brutal but he knows that he has no choice. He leads Kevin deep into the woods, back the way he came until he comes across the bodies of his first two kills and sets about collecting from them as he had the others. He has gathered a lot now, too much for him to carry alone so he is forced to give Kevin some of his burden. The boy doesn't complain and J.T. knows that it is only his leadership that is keeping the child from collapsing in hysteria.

Their pace is slower but still quick and J.T. knows where he will go, knows where they can be safe. There is an outcropping of rock that contains a deep cave about a mile from his former home and he has explored it and knows it is safe. So he takes Kevin there, avoids actually going to Marixia and Leo's farm, and is pleased to note that all is quiet in the forest surrounding the cave. He deposits his spoils in a back corner and with the aid of a illuminated data pad quickly has a small fire burning, the smoke drifting upwards to a small crack in the roof and he is thankful they are far enough back that the light would not be visible to the outside, he knew that would aid in their avoiding detection.

He settles the exhausted Kevin in the corner by the packs and leaves briefly to gather more wood for the fire. He feeds the flames a few more sticks to keep it going and sets the rest of his bundle down. Quickly he checks his knives and the straps of two of his new rifles before deciding that he is properly prepared.

Crouching he is face to face with his charge and his voice is the same soothing constant that it always is with him. "Kevin I need you to stay here alright? I need to go back out there, to find out exactly what is going on and to get us some more stuff. I need to know you're safe and that means you need to stay here. Can you do that for me?"

"J.T. please don't go. I'm scared." The boy looks ready to pass out and the fear is so naked on his face that J.T. wants scream at the sight of it. He does no such thing.

"I'll be back Kevin, I promise you, but I have to go okay? Can you be strong for me, be brave?"

With a hiccupping sigh the child nods, wanting to please J.T. even as he wants to grab him and never let go.

Like smoke in the air he is gone between that second and the next. He knows that he needs to investigate further, needs to see the situation with the other surrounding colonists even as a part of him rails against leaving Kevin alone _because he knows what it feels like to be alone and scared and Kevin doesn't need that_. He can only swear that he will return to his new den as quickly as he is able to.

It takes him a few hours, he knows because he has timed the distances before, to reach the edge of the town that supports his part of the colony and what he finds is war. The guards J.T. realizes suddenly, must have started killing the settlers on the outside of town first in an effort to create a type of tightening net around the central town, to kill the most people with the least amount of warning. There is fighting in the streets and bodies sprawled haphazardly in every direction. He can hear the screams of the dying, the whimpers of the wounded, and the agonizing silence of the dead _and it is horrible and sickening but J.T. can not help but be grateful that Kevin had not lived in town or he would have been too late._

He ignores what he can, stepping over and around bodies and splashing through not so shallow pools of blood. He is determined to find out what had sparked this massacre and to return to Kevin as quickly as possible.

It's the quietly muffled crying of a child that distracts him first.

He moves towards the sound, drawn to it by the same force that had drawn him so deeply to Kevin when he first laid eyes on the boy. What he finds is a small girl child, no older than his Kevin, hidden half beneath the bodies of who J.T. suspects were her parents, tiny hands shoved against her mouth to stifle her crying. _It's a self preservation skill that one learns because if the enemy can hear you they can find you which is why J.T. has learned to never make a sound._

He slowly shifts the weight of the dead off her and she looks at him with wide and fearful green eyes out of a heart shaped face framed by wispy chocolate hair.

"My name's J.T. and I'm going to keep you safe." It is a statement and a promise and when he says the words J.T. feels the truth of them clench in his gut. He would protect this child and any others he could find, would protect them to the deaths of others or his own _because he had already killed for Kevin and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would do it again for this girl and for any others he may find._

He grips her hand in his and pulls her to her feet gently and when he is sure she can walk on her own he sets off again _because even if he wishes he could carry her he needs both hands free incase he needs to kill again._ He doesn't try to stop her crying, doesn't ask her name, or try and tell her everything will be alright _he knows that it will never be alright, that nothing will ever make this okay_, instead he pulls her forward like he did for Kevin.

He slinks through the town, his new girl in tow, no longer looking for answers so much as looking for others to save, other children that he can take from death. He finds what he is looking for, finds more than he had hoped for and yet less than seemed possible. He pulls one out of the rubble of a collapsed building, pulls another from the safety of a garbage bin she had sought refuge in. He takes another life when he sees a guard kicking a prone body _he remembers what the feel of heavy boots on his ribs feels like, remembers the anguish of being beaten into submission_ but is filled with rage when he realizes that he was to late to save the victim.

He finds some who are younger than he is, he pulls a toddler from a dead father's arms, and some who are roughly his age, there is a boy whose face has been disfigured by a rifle blast but he is alive and can move so J.T. has no qualms about taking him. He finds some who are older; there is almost glee in his heart when he castrates an unsuspecting guard and he ignores the mans cries for mercy _that bastard had none to give to the girl who was older than J.T., the one who begged him to stop, to not to touch her and J.T. knows what it feels like to be touched against his will_ and gets the girl on her feet.

He doesn't know how many he has now, does not bother to keep track because numbers do not matter only getting them to safety does. He focuses on his surroundings and on taking the lives of any who would dare oppose his mission. It is surprisingly easy to get the upper hand on the guards. None of them suspect a child of being armed, of being dangerous, so their eyes forget to take in the ratio of blood on his form compared to his few visible injuries, they neglect to see the knives or the rifles until it is too late.

J.T. loses track of how many he kills.

Eventually he leaves the town because the group is large and it is harder to protect so many at once. He gets them into the woods and sets a hard pace to get them to the cave before they are discovered. He circles as they move, taking the front and the rear, leading and protecting to the best of his abilities. It takes them far longer than he would have liked and when they finally arrive they are exhausted and bloody and dawn is rising pink over the horizon but he knows that he can not rest yet.

"Go inside," he tells them _and they listen because he is more of an adult than they are even if he is younger and all they want is someone to tell them what to do. _"Go inside and stay put, don't come back out, don't touch anything, and stay quiet." He leaves again, using the last bit of time he has before day breaks upon them fully to go back to his shed and then to Marixia and Leo's and ransack the house further than what the guards had in an effort to gather anything useful now because he knows that soon it will be dangerous to leave the woods.

He gathers more food and fills containers with water, he gathers as many pieces of clothes that he can and the medical kit that he knew they kept fully stocked. He gets blankets and even gathers some of the games that they had _because the smaller children would need to be kept occupied so they would stay quiet and safe_ and he manages to heft his burden and make his way back into the woods even though hunger is raking his body and exhaustion is beginning to show through the adrenaline.

When he gets there he can see that no one had moved in the time that he had been gone, they followed orders surprisingly well it seemed considering what had happened. He puts his gathered supplies in the same corner as the others and takes the medkit to the center of the cave and calls for all who are wounded to step forward, the number is alarmingly large.

In the end he tends as many of the wounds as he can to the best of his ability. He sows and bandages and gives pills and shots and prays with what is left of his soul that no one gets an infection _sickness is harder to fight than people and he can't kill it with his bare hands or his knife_. He takes a head count and finds that he has managed to save twenty three others including Kevin and excluding himself _it was too late to save himself, he had been fucked over long before Tarsus went to hell_ and when the others have all finally passed out from exhaustion and shock he takes up guard by the opening, rifle in hand, and manages to fall into an uneasy sleep.

J.T. turns thirteen to genocide.

* * *

An: Thank you all for reading once again and I hope to hear from you. Oh and if you do review please do sign in so that I may respond to you! If you chose not to sign in I thank you from the bottom of my heart anyways!

Translations:

_Nam-tor karik_: Be strong

_Rish-tor: Survive_


	3. Robin Hood

Summary: _Because Jim misses bedtime stories and a life like this should not be real, but it is so he copes the only way he knows how._

Warning: This is not a happy story, or at least not for Jim in the beginning. Beware of angst, mentions of abuse, an extremely large section on Tarsus IV, and Kirk/Spock. Jim will also be slightly out of character since I intend to make him a bit more on the grim side.

Disclaimer: If I owned it…..well let's just say that no one anywhere would ever doubt that Kirk/Spock was canon (though honestly there shouldn't be any doubt anyways!)

* * *

Robin Hood.

* * *

Things get much worse after that and it is all J.T. can do to keep his children alive. He finally has time to read the contents of that data pad in their entirety and so he knows what is happening, knows about the fungus that attacked the food supply and about Kodos and his beliefs. He finds an almost sadistic glee in looking back at the memories of the lives that he has stolen _it is good that they are dead; they deserved death for being monsters enough to comply with orders to shoot down children in the streets_ and cannot help but wish to clasp his hands around the neck of Kodos himself.

He manages to keep things together through sheer will power and at first it is not easy. Some of the older children do not want to follow someone younger than they are and one day they rebel and leave the safety of the area that he had worked hard to develop. Later that same day they are sore and tired and once again in shock when they return to camp, a blood soaked J.T. following closely behind them. He had ripped his way through the unsuspecting guards who had captured them with the viciousness of an animal.

They never question him again.

He works hard to keep them safe. He works hard and for the most part he works alone and sometimes he feels that if it was not for Kevin he would be dead already _Kevin had given him a purpose beyond his own survival because after so much it was sometimes not enough to live for the sake of living_ before he shakes the feeling and goes back to whatever he is doing at the moment. His original charge proves to be a great help as he listens to J.T. with unwavering loyalty. His steadfast devotion slowly helps to convince the other children that he was not a danger _at least not to them, he killed to protect them and he would never hurt them_ and that following him was the best choice.

Slowly a sense of family seemed to develop.

An older girl named Zafrina is also devoted to J.T. _he pulled the guard off her and she knows that she would have been raped and dead in the street if he had not come along_ and becomes almost a mother figure to the rest of the group. They go to her for comfort because she is beautiful with her soft mocha colored skin, long raven hair, and soothing voice. She tells J.T. that when this is over they will always be together, that he saved her and she wanted to always be in his life. He wants to believe her _he knows the truth in his heart, when it was over and if they survived she would see the animal that he was and would turn from him as well_ so he never says otherwise when she begins to plan out futures for them all.

Their youngest is a toddler, barely able to speak and no one seems to know her name so J.T. calls her Ixia _she looks so much like Marixia with her grins and that tumble of fiery hair that he feels an almost ache in his heart every time he looks at her_ and the name seems to fit. Everyone takes pleasure in her, because she is too young to have been truly tainted by the situation and her laughter and smiles are as carefree as they ever were.

J.T. is not their father; he is their protector, their teacher, their savior and their hope. He organizes watches and codes so they are safe, he sets up a perimeter for security and does everything in his power to stay undetected. He teaches them like he taught Kevin, how to blend and how to move unnoticed. He is a silent and often grim figure but they can not help but be in awe of him for all that he does for them and on the rare occasions that he sits among them they all try and tell him so only to end in failure. He means too much for them to properly express.

He has quiet evenings with Zafrina where they sit and play chess on the old board that he had gathered from the farm and she tells him her dreams _it is nice because he has never had a friend since Kevin is more of his child and he finds himself drawn to her quiet conversation even if he does not participate often._

J.T. is forced to face the fact that they are slowly dying. He knows by the time on the data pad and the crude calendar he scratched into the cave wall for the younger children that almost two months had passed. Two months of rationing the food that he had managed to gather, of going days without eating because he knew that he was stronger and the others were so very weak. He has already exhausted the supplies at his old home, what would have feed three mouths for an extended period of time does not last so long when it must feed twenty-three _he does not include himself because he can survive on so much less than they can and in so many different ways._ Two months and he knows that he will have to venture into enemy territory or his children will die.

It is on a night when Zafrina is finding it hard to quiet the children, where everyone is restless because they are growing hungrier by the day, that he makes his move. He is steady and almost methodical in his preparations _he knows this is dangerous, more so than protecting his children or rescuing them, this is different because he has never actively sought out the enemy before_ and he cannot stop himself from checking and then rechecking the perimeter of the cave. When he is ready, he rises from his crouched position and moves fluidly to where Zafrina sits beside Ixia in the corner, motioning for her to follow him with a tilt of his head.

He gathers a few others on his way to the cave entrance, motioning for them all to be quiet and not wake the younger ones. Echo is a tall slim teen with lackluster white hair and a mellow disposition; Tom is the boy who had been disfigured by the rifle blast and J.T. finds his presence reassuring since he is by nature a calm individual. He is proud to see Kevin at his side, the knife that he had gifted to him so many months ago still where it should be _it gives him a sense of relief to know that his original child has protection at all times_ and E., whose first name is unpronounceable for most of the group, follows closely behind.

When they are finally together and out of range for the other children to be disturbed by their conversation he finally speaks.

"I'm leaving." He states and only his upraised hand stops the loud eruption of voices before it can begin. "Not for good but for the night, we need more food and supplies and I know where to get them. You need to be on guard while I am gone, take the rifles I am leaving behind and keep a watch. You know the rules."

Without giving them a chance to speak he turns and kneels before Kevin _as much as he wishes he could leave the boy out of this he finds that he can not leave without speaking to him again, this small child who was the first to make him actually feel almost human_.

"Kevin I need you to be careful. Stay with Zafrina and stay safe." J.T. unexpectedly gathers the boy close to him and cannot stop from whispering into his ear, "_Nam-tor karik _Kevin_, rish-tor."_ He still does not know what they mean and has not heard the voice in so very long _but the tattoos are still there and the words are still an almost hope._

Kevin melts into J.T.'s embrace, his small body clinging to his knight and his young tongue stumbles over the word that he knows means so much to his J.T. because he constantly whispers it to him at night. _"Rish-tor _J.T." He does not sob like he wants to but the tears are still in his eyes as J.T. sets him aside and disappears in that silent way he has.

J.T. is a blur in the shadows of the late evening as he flickers through the forest. He knows from the data pad he had confiscated from the dead guard that the food they had been told to gather was at the time being held in one of the storehouses in the center of town. He knew the place was still inhabited since the people who had been on the kill list had been gathered for execution in the square like animals, and like animals they had rioted, spilling death into empty streets_, _since the colonists deemed worthy had been moved for a short time for the _euthanasia_ to take place. His children had been the lucky ones who had managed to flee the slaughter _lucky to live only to face the possibility of a slow death._ It was a dangerous risk but chances were it would be his best bet to finding a means of sustaining his children.

It takes him precious time but when dark is heavy upon him he finally reaches the outskirts of town and is almost sickened to see people walking through the streets looking hearty and hale _his children are starving, will die if he does not succeed and these creatures, these blessed four thousand, seemed unaffected overall._ He slinks through town, his job made more difficult by the people milling about and the unforgiving lights that shrink his shadows. It is a complicated game, a complex give and take of risk and nerve to stay out of sight and unnoticed by so many and he feels a part of him sing at the danger.

Hours seem to pass but he knows that it is only minutes as he steals through the town and ever closer the storehouse that holds salvation for his children. He is careful as he slips passed the guard _he wishes he could kill the man, wants to feel his life slip away but he knows that a body will make things more difficult_ and toward the building, staying in the shadows until he is face to face with the keypad that stands between him and his goal. It is almost child's play to open the lock, to use the knowledge he had absorbed to gain an access code without detection, and relief threatens to overwhelm him as he slips in through the door.

It is empty.

Rage and a sense of helplessness fills him as the knowledge that he had been wrong overwhelms his mind. This had been his chance, his children's chance and yet he had failed _it seemed as if he always failed in one way or another only this time others besides himself would pay the price._ He wants to act out, to channel the rage that fills him into a physical sense. He almost leaves, almost goes outside and attacks the guard in a fit of murderous violence before it hits him, a solid blow to the solar-plex in the form of a voice.

"_Nam-tor hayal."_

The voice, his life giving voice, slams across his consciousness like a physical blow and he finds himself scrambling after it mentally _you're here, you're back, please stay don't go, need you, want you here, don't go_. For the first time in his life he reaches out, towards someone else, only to feel the connection slam shut before him. It is not the gradual withdrawal of before, but an all out rejection of his mental self, a slamming of a door and the turning of a lock. An inescapable sense of finality that seems to tell J.T. that it is the end this time, that it will never come back.

A harsh prickling in the back of his eyes takes him off guard as the urge to cry rails through him for the first time since he was small. He shoves it back viciously and instead tries to focus on the issue of his children _he is used to being unwanted so this should not hurt, but oh God it does with the flaring pain of a thousand beatings because he had reached out to his voice and been rejected without hesitation_ but it feels as if something within him is broken now, something that had previously remained untouched through everything is now shattered beyond all recognition.

It is as if something has died within J.T., some wounded and sickly piece of his soul is now gone and in its place he can feel the wolf pacing at the door.

His face set in a firm line he tightly grasps his knife in hand and slinks back out the door. He is silent as he approaches the guard, quiet as his hand flashes out and his knife bits deep into the mans' throat, the blade stifling any sound that would have been forth coming. The body drops, the man's life blood seeping into the ground beneath his feet as J.T. crouches beside his body and searches though his pocket. He knows that there must be orders on the man somewhere because it is not necessary to guard an empty building. The data pad is undamaged when he removes it from a pocket and places it into his own. Carefully he strips the guard of all that he can take and slips back into the shadows, slinking again to the outskirts of town.

He finds a safe place and settles down with the data pad, his face a blank mask and his hands covered in fresh blood _J.T. no longer cares about the trouble the body will bring, no longer cares about much of anything, he will achieve his goal and all else matters not _as he reads the words on the screen. There will be a transport coming later that same night, a small convoy of foodstuff to be delivered to the guard's housing facilities, followed by a larger shipment for the civilians who live in the town the following morning. It is a routine that is scheduled for roughly once a month. He studies the route, the small number of guards and the timeframe.

He knows what he must do.

* * *

AN: I know it is a bit on the short side but I wanted to get something up for all of you who have been so kind to me and I promise I will make it up to you with the next chapter since it is much longer. I hope that everyone is still enjoying the story and are willing to suffer with Jim and me in the future!

Translations:

_Nam-tor karik_: Be strong

_Rish-tor_: Survive

_Nam-tor hayal_: Be calm


	4. The Death of the Little Hen

Disclaimer: If I owned it…..well let's just say that no one anywhere would ever doubt that Kirk/Spock was canon (though honestly there shouldn't be any doubt anyways!)

AN: I must say that I am deeply humbled and astonished by the number of reviews that I have received for this story. It truly warms my writer's heart to such a positive outpouring of responses from you all. Thank you so very much and I hope you enjoy this next installment.

* * *

The Death of the Little Hen

* * *

He is tired and he is wounded _his heart aches with a pain that he had never felt before and his soul is so weary _when he finally makes his way back to the cave. His journey has been hard and taken longer than he would have liked but he has food now, life saving food and medical supplies. He stumbles in the woods and only years of compartmentalizing his fatigue and pain saves him from a tumble to the ground. His body aches and he can feel the slow and steady procession of blood down his side, _it had been so risky to attack the convoy but he was desperate and willing to face the danger that the two guards had presented _hidden by his tattered clothes and camouflaged by the blood of others. He knows that he needs treatment but he can not afford to show weakness.

Instead he forces steel into his spine, forces himself upright and forward into the area that surrounds the cave, his mouth letting out a series of trilling whistles that signify his return to the others. Excited exclamations meet his ears and he hears the shuffling footsteps of people coming up to the cave entrance. He is soon met by the ones he left in charge and a joyous Kevin, and he can tell with a glance that the pup had not found rest while he had been absent. He hands over his goods to the other boys and watches calmly as they return to the cave in order to set about the task of feeding and caring for the others. After a few moments the sounds of footsteps and voices fade and he is left in blissful silence with only Kevin and Zafrina beside him.

He smiles down at the upturned face of Kevin and is barely able to refrain from wincing as small arms wrap firmly around his waist and squeeze, the tightening appendages grating heavily on the open and bleeding gash across his ribs and the bruises that are just shy of actual lacerations. His hand comes up to card through knotted tresses before a voice freezes him in place.

"_Nam-tor karik _J.T." Kevin whispers the declaration into his stained and bloody shirt front. The once comforting words cause ice to dash through J.T.'s veins and he can feel himself stiffen for a fraction of a second before he forces himself to relax _Kevin did not know, could not know, how bad those words hurt now._

"_Rish-tor _Kevin." J.T. forces himself to say the words, to return the sentiment, because he knows that like he always had _because he always had_ Kevin found comfort in the words. _J.T. refuses to take any comfort away from his Kevin, no matter how small it may be, in order to spare himself the pain. Pain was something he was familiar with and he would learn to conquer this new hurt as well._

Their moment together is broken by the sound of Zafrina's voice wafting song like across the still air.

"Kevin child?" She softly calls the young boys' attention to her and J.T. can not help but notice that her eyes are sharp and watchful as they turn to face her as a unit, the medical kit that he had managed to obtain sitting firmly in her grasp.

"Yes Rina?" Kevin's voice is awash with affection when he addresses her and J.T. is pleased in an absent sort of way that his pup had managed to reach out to the girl after all he had faced.

"Would you mind going to make sure that Ixia is well taken care of? I need to talk with J.T. for a moment and then we will follow." A sweet smile accompanies her words and with another painful hug for J.T. Kevin dashes off to fulfill his appointed task.

J.T. considers his remaining companion and knows by the stubborn tilt of her jaw and the directness of her gaze that the matter she wishes to discuss is a serious one. So with a familiar incline of his head he motions for her to follow him to a shaded spot beside the cave entrance, out of direct site but well within an acceptable range.

"You are hurt." It is a statement, not a question, and it tears through the silence like a knife. Briefly he considers denying it, considers simply walking away and telling her nothing, of waiting until he is alone to treat the wound as he always had before. Her hand upon his arm stops either action. "I will not tell the others." She states the words softly and simply, nothing else forthcoming as she gazes into his eyes.

He steps back and with a small grunt pulls his battered shirt off of his body and her startled gasp freezes him in place. He knows what he looks like, knows that he has bruises layered upon scars, _he has seen it, seen his disfigured form and he knows that he will never be whole, never be right_ and he knows that they probably frighten her. He is surprised when instead of commenting on his beaten form Zafrina merely opens the medkit and sets about cleaning and bandaging his wound. Her silence is in some ways an unexpected and yet appreciated gift.

Soon his wound is treated, the flesh a sensitive and sore part of him now, and he is prepared to redress when a soft caress across his chest causes his breath to catch as a fingertip traces lightly across the words he had carved into his skin so long ago.

"These words mean a lot to you, and to Kevin. I have heard you whisper them to him at night when the others are sleeping and have seen the comfort they bring." She speaks slowly and her voice is low and J.T. does not find her statements offensive.

"They do." He acknowledges her observations, his voice a gruff counterpart to her melodious tone.

"What do they mean? What language is it?" They are questions that he has often asked himself, often wanted to know the answers to but has always been afraid to find out.

"I don't know." It is something that he does not like to admit out loud; his lack of knowledge.

"You do not know the origin or the meaning and yet you would do this to yourself? Then what do they mean to _you_ J.T.?"

_They mean nothing to him now, because he had been rejected and nothing could ever change that. Now they were monuments to a lie; a false companion, a false possibility._ "They meant hope to me once." He is not sure why he answers her, why he tells her such things that he would normally keep guarded and close _guarding it now seems worthless, meaningless, because there is nothing left to be damaged._

"Once? Do they not mean so now?" A gentle inquiry.

"No." It is a sharp declaration.

"Why?"

"It was a rejection. A rejection hidden in promises and wrapped in comfort. A false hope, a no win situation." He tugs his shirt back over his head and turns to walk away from her.

"I do not believe that such a thing exists." Her voice is hard and determined something that is rare for her and he can not stop himself from turning back.

"You don't believe in what?"

"These no win situations. To believe that your efforts are for naught and that loss is the only possible outcome. Such things are foolish. There are two sides to every coin."

"Some things are unchanging Zafrina, some outcomes always meant to be. Some situations cannot be conquered." His voice is a painful truth; something's do not change J.T. knows_. Winona would never love him, Samuel would never love him, he would never be whole and clean. These things would never happen._

"Those words meant hope to you once J.T. and hope is a precious thing to find and a horrible thing to lose. You should allow them to mean hope to you once again." She gathers the medkit close to herself and proceeds to walk past J.T. and towards the cave, only stopping once to stare at him over her shoulder, raven hair dancing in the wind. "If you can not change the outcome J.T., then you must change the world."

His hand rises of its own accord to softly dance across his own chest, fingers tracing words that lay hidden beneath material. He wanted to believe that she was right, that he could do those things she said; that he could change their world. He wanted so badly to believe that no win situations did not exist. _To never accept defeat, to never admit that one can not achieve their desired outcome would be a dream come true for J.T. but he has long stopped believing in dreams._

The day turns to night and the night to day again and in this way J.T. passes his time as constructively as he possibly can. He works hard on gathering what goods he can eke out of the land around him, and is determined to make the supplies that he had risked life and limb to obtain from the convoy last as long as possible. Things are as good as they possibly can be given the situation being what it was. J.T. has more long nights watching over the perimeter and playing chess with Zafrina. He tries his hardest to act the same as he always had, to be the same person he had been for as long as he could remember, but he can sense that something has changed within him.

The pieces of the wolf that had risen even closer to the surface on the night with the convoy were still present and he could feel the beast inside of him. Pacing. Hungry. Always seeming to test the bars of its cage, testing his control and his will power. At first it disturbed him, made him uneasy and nervous in a silent sort of way, but as time passed he grew used to it, became accustomed to the almost tangible presence in his mind. It was different than the voice; it did not give off the sense of a separate individual, instead it was more of a manifestation for his instinctual self. It was undeniably him and yet there was something almost alien, something _wild_ in a way that surpassed his own feral tendencies.

The longer he contemplated it the more it grew to become an almost separate part of him. He knew intellectually that it was not so, that the wolf as he had come to call it, was simply a self preservation technique designed to cure his own abiding sense of loneliness. _Hope for the voice to return had been destroyed, his hearts desire forced out of existence, and now it was so much lonelier in J.T.'s head without the voice. So much lonelier because now he knew it would not return._ It did not communicate with words, not like the voice did; instead it was more of an itch, an insuppressible niggling in the back of his mind, something that communicated with feelings and urges.

J.T. fears that his mind has fractured.

Nevertheless time passes by with the cruel and viciously slow pace of a funeral march, and even with his best efforts to ration what they have, food begins to grow scare again. Another set of months passes and he knows that things are going down hill. Even worse the weather has begun to grow colder and night comes quicker. Winter for Tarsus IV is quickly approaching and J.T. knows that unless he is careful it will be the death of them all. He spends even more of his time gathering what little nature provided him with; spends hours gathering anything that would burn and stacking it in a back corner of the cave for future use.

He breaks down some of the more ragged pieces of clothes that they have and uses them to painstakingly stitch together blankets and other things he had gathered in an effort to fight the newly formed chill in the air. He goes on another small excursion to town and this time he manages to relieve several households of a sizable quantity of food before he is forced to flee and he knows that he will not be able to do such a thing often. He is unable to obtain much else but what he does get his hands on helps to fight back death's ever looming scythe from its place over his children.

For a while, only a moment in time, it seems as if things will turn out fine and the times are almost good. Almost. _J.T. knows better than to believe in happy endings and he knows that almost is never good enough._ The winds grow harsher by the day and the temperature continues to drop and the threat of sickness continues to increase steadily. He does what he can to keep them warm and safe, but he is forced to face the fact that it was not enough on the day that Zafrina's startled and urgent voice shatters the silence around him.

Ixia is feverish. Zafrina sits on the ground, the toddlers burning form wrapped firmly in her arms as she rocks her back and forth, trying to still the wild flailing of the fever-stricken child.

"J.T. I know this sickness. It will kill her if something is not done." Her voice is confident, calm, and yet J.T. can hear the worry dripping from her every word. J.T. knows fevers as well, knows the dangers of one untreated and the possibility of death that accompanies them.

He gathers what is left of the medical supplies he had managed to obtain and riffles through them, searching for anything that might reduce the fever. There are only a few bandages and an assortment of creams left, nothing that would help to lower the already dangerous temperature of their smallest member.

Desperate he resorts to the older methods of healing, the things he himself had used while growing up in a household without care, without doctor trips, and without the advanced aids of modern medicine. He gathers his own ragged blanket and the more durable one that the child already used and after taking her small body from Zafrina wraps them snuggly around her, cocooning her in warm cloth. He barks an order for the cleanest strips of cloth that can be found and a container of cold water, which he receives within minutes. Gently he bathes the girls face and neck, knowing that he has to lower the temperature, that her body is already weak from lack of proper nutrition and can not take this added stress for long.

When she is finally too weak to thrash, her fever glazed eyes turn themselves upwards towards J.T. and a whimper sounds from her tiny throat. J.T. knows that she is hot and the blankets seem cruel, but he also knows that they are one of the few things that can help her to survive this sickness. A horrible thought strikes him and softly he calls for Zafrina.

"Check the others. See if there are more with this fever. We need to know if it has spread or if it is just Ixia." His voice is rough and he can taste the horror in his own tone.

Zafrina's face contorts briefly, the possibility that it might not be an isolated incident slamming into her all at once, and he can hear her calling for some of the older children to help her before she runs off to do as told. She returns moments later with another child in her arms, a sweet blonde boy who is only a year or so older than Kevin. She gathers blankets and cloth strips and does for him as J.T. had done for Ixia before handing him over to Tom who had approached not moments before and taken in the situation with a sweeping glance.

Within the next few moments two more are brought forward, none as bad as Ixia but still in dire need of help. They settle them as best they can and J.T. along with the other older children work desperately to lower their temperatures as Zafrina scurries off to find more useful things. An hour or so passes and J.T. is beginning to worry about her absence and Kevin's when Ixia finally stirs enough to where he can gently coax sips of water down her throat. It is as he is administering to the toddler that he hears the soft and rhythmic footfalls of Zafrina approaching behind him and he speaks to her without turning.

"Zafrina, have you seen Kevin? I need him here to help with the others." His voice is slightly impatient because now is not the time for his pup to wander far from him.

"J-J.T." Her voice is hesitant, soft, and something within it freezes his insides and causes the wolf to jerk to attention. Calmly he sets the container of water down on the cave floor and settles Ixia beside it before he slowly rises from his crouched position and with trepidation in his mind turns to face Zafrina.

His heart stutters and ceases to beat for a moment as his breath is ripped from his lungs at the sight of her burden.

"Kevin…" The child is feverish and his clothes are plastered to his form with sweat as he hangs limply in her arms and J.T. can feel the wolf within him snarl in denial. He steps forward, his hands infinitely gentle as he takes his pup from her clutches and cradles him against his chest, his body too light for one his age and oh so easy for J.T. to lift. _He shouldn't be this light, should not weigh so little. Kevin is too vibrant to be so very small. Surely the sun weighs more than this?_ A split second later he is a flurry of movement, as he dashes about the cave gathering more supplies and blankets to administer aid to his Kevin as he had done to the others.

"What took so long to find him?" His question is a dagger of dangerous emotions wrapped in words as he feels the wolf pace closer to the surface and an almost growl like noise rumbles in his chest.

"J.T. he was outside." Zafrina barely stifles a flinch as almost grey eyes slice into her. "He had a container of water with him J.T., he must have went when we found out Ixia was sick."

He feels himself shudder in rage as he realizes that his own order had sent Kevin out of the safety of the cave and towards the small stream that helped to preserve their lives. He nurses Kevin with the dedicated care of a father as the day passes around him, stopping only to lend a hand to the others who were tending the sick and to issue orders or advice to the inhabitants of the cave. The day is solemn as everyone can feel the urgency in the air, the cloud of barely concealed rage and violence that hovers over J.T. as he cares for his pup.

The night eats the sun from the sky and still there is no improvement in the children. Ixia grows progressively weaker as the hours pass and the other children, Kevin included, seem to be following her lead. J.T. is amazed and worried at the progression of the fever, it is moving through their malnourished bodies so much faster than it should have. Finally when there are only a handful of hours left before the sun returns J.T. rises from his position and walks the short distance to where Zafrina sits exhausted, Ixia wrapped loosely in her arms.

"How is she?" It is a soft question, his own weariness shining through in the tone of his voice.

"She is growing weaker J.T." He can hear the barely restrained tears in her voice and some part of him echoes her grief. "If something is not done I am scared that she will not make it and neither will the others. J.T., Kevin was outside." The tears are present now, her soft sobs almost chocking her words. "H-He was exposed to the weather in his condition. We n-need medicine, something!" Overcome she buries her face in the crook of Ixia's shoulder. "We're going to lose them J.T.; I can feel her slipping through my fingers…"

Unable to help himself J.T. places a gentle hand upon her head and strokes her hair softly. "I'm not going to let that happen Zafrina. Remember no win situations don't exist." He tries to smile down into her now upturned face, a beautiful grimace more than anything. _He says the words for her benefit despite not believing in them although some part of him wishes for them to be true._ His decision made he turns from her and sets about the now familiar motions of gathering his gear as the wolf within him perks back up and seems to stretch itself.

It is time to hunt.

He can feel the others who are still awake watching him and he knows that they understand what he is about to do. Feeling movement he half turns and watches as Tom slowly makes his way to his side, the disfigured portion of his face covered by half of what had once been a black t-shirt.

"You're going out to find medicine aren't you?" The other boy's voice is husky, the product of not enough water and too little rest.

J.T. gifts him with a curt nod in response.

Tom sighs, sounding too old for their shared ages _yet J.T. knows that he is older in mind than even Tom, he was far older than he has a right to be,_ and nods his head in the direction of the fitfully sleeping Kevin. "I'll watch over the little one until you get back. Be safe J.T."

J.T.'s eyes soften slightly towards the other boy as he conveys his gratitude through a hand clasped briefly around a shoulder before he hoists his gear and once again sets out into the night, his own threadbare clothing offering him little protection.

He makes the now familiar trek through the woods, his feet whispering over the leaves and branches that cover the forest floor as he relies on his senses and the small amount of light provided by the dual moons of the planet to guide his way. He reaches the town and slinks his way inside, the motions now familiar after his numerous trips. He flitters from shadow to shadow in the now quietly stirring settlement, hoping to complete his objective before the colonists rise for the day. He does not dare revisit any of the places that he had frequented before, careful to not establish a pattern.

Instead he finds a home a little way passed the center of town with a window left carelessly ajar. Silently he manages to wriggle his way inside, careful not to rattle his rifle or to tread too loudly on the floorboards. He heads towards where the kitchen is normally located and quickly sets about rifling through the cabinets, stopping to take the opportunity to gather some food items as well as the fully stocked medkit that rested in its cliché place beneath the sink.

He is securing his pack when he hears it, the heavy tread of newly awakened feet on the floorboards above him. Quickly he grabs his things and slings them back over his shoulder, the pack heavier but not enough to slow him down significantly. He is out of the window and slipping it shut when a figure rounds the corner of the room and for a split second their eyes lock before J.T. is running, no longer trying to slink from shadow to shadow because he knows that he has already been caught. Fleeing is forefront in his mind, because as much as he wants all of them dead, wants those who have continued on as if nothing has happened to suffer, he knows that he must return to his children, that Kevin and the others are at death's door and only he can stop it from opening.

He flies through the town, ignoring the startled expressions of the few who are now awake to see him darting through the streets. Behind him he can hear the shouts for the guards as the homeowner he had just robbed alerts them to his presence. He runs faster, his desperation quickening his pace as he reaches the outer portion of town. The surrounding woods are within his sight when the resounding boom of a rifle being fired sounds from behind him and a jagged pain slashes through his hip. He can taste blood on his tongue as his teeth rip into his bottom lip to smother his scream of pain, and he can feel the warm liquid slip down his leg from the newly opened tear in his skin.

Clamping a hand down onto the wound he continues his breakneck pace into the woods. He purposely heads towards the thicker parts of the trees, away from the clearer path that he had taken to get there since he knows that the underbrush will slow down his pursuers and grant him precious time. He goes as fast as he can, relying on his knowledge of the woods to make up for his slowing pace due to his wound. He can hear when they enter the woods behind him, their curses and heavy footfalls excruciatingly loud compared to his own whisper quiet movements.

He ducks and dodges, bobs and weaves through mazes of limbs, across streams and brooks. He doubles back and around, trying his hardest to lose the guards, to confuse them in the labyrinth of the woods. He knows that he needs to hurry, that he is losing too much blood and wasting too much time; but he also knows that he can not allow them to follow him back to the cave. Finally when he can no longer hear them in the distance, he sets off towards the cave, being careful to take a round-about path.

He stops only once to quickly check the wound on his hip. He had been lucky, the rifle blast had only grazed him, deep enough to make him bleed a decent amount, but shallow enough to not hit bone. He digs through the medkit that he had stolen and takes a moment to slap a bandage on the wound; just enough to halt the blood flow because he does not have time for more.

He barely takes the time to give the customary signal once he reaches his destination, flying full tilt into the cave and practically diving to the floor beside Kevin's pale form, hands flying to administer a hypospray full of fever reducer to his pup. He watches for a moment, chest rising and falling rapidly as his breath wheezes through his lungs from his hasty journey, and is relieved to notice an immediate change. Kevin is breathing easier and the flush in his skin is already beginning to die down by the time J.T. looks up at Tom's lingering form, ready to give out instructions for the others to administer the medication to the sick.

The limp and pale form of Ixia in the other boy's arms stops him in his tracks and it is all he can do to rip his eyes from her still chest to look into the eye of the one holding her. Tom is crying, tears slipping from his one good eye to fall gently onto the upturned face of the body in his arms.

"When?" J.T. manages to croak.

"An hour ago, two at the most. She went still and she just stopped breathing…" Tom sounds so young now, so much younger than he had earlier. "She just stopped breathing and we couldn't make her start again. W-We tried J.T., Zafrina tried…but she just wouldn't…" The other boy is sobbing now, rocking the body in his arms and sobbing out his grief into her hair.

E. steps forward, his own face pale and drawn, his eyes the same haunted orbs that J.T. had been used to seeing in the mirror since an early age. "Zafrina went out just a short while ago, went out to find you. She was worried, said something must have been wrong."

J.T. snaps to attention in that moment, terror over taking his soul at the information presented to him; at the knowledge that she was out there, out in the same woods where guards were currently looking for him. He rises in a dash, pressing the supplies and the medkit into E.'s arms and hastily giving him instructions, before with one last look at Kevin and the still body of Ixia he darts back outside, his feet automatically taking him to the path that he knew Zafrina would have taken, the very one he had worked so hard to avoid.

He finds evidence of her in the soft ground of the forest, can spot the place where she tripped and fell in her haste. He spies strands of long dark hair tangled in a low-hanging branch. He tracks her back to Leo and Marixia's farm, barely spares a glance at the rundown appearance of what had once been a happy home. Some part of him is impressed by the distance she had managed to cover, proud of her determination as well as scared for what he will find when he finally catches up to her.

It takes him longer to find her than he would have liked since he is forced to track her movements carefully so that he does not loose her trail. When he does find her, _oh God when he does_, he almost wishes that he had not. He spies her through the trees, kneeling on the cold and unforgiving ground, head held high and hair fluttering like a emblem in the breeze as she stares unflinching at the two guards that hover before her, weapons drawn and fingers on the triggers. He can see the body of another guard, half his face missing by the blast of the rifle that now lay abandoned on the ground beside him. J.T. feels a fierce pride well up in his heart for the girl who was so gentle and motherly to his children; for her having found the strength to fight.

"We know there are more of you, you bitch. We saw that little blonde bastard haul ass into the woods. Where is he!" A brutal backhand to the face sends her crashing to the ground, blood pouring from her nose and J.T. barely suppresses his snarl of rage as he carefully maneuvers his rifle from his back. He could not fight these two, he was already wounded and he would have to be careful since his strength was not on the same level as it once had been and they were both armed.

"I would never tell you anything!" Zafrina is brave, a true warrior soul hidden beneath a motherly touch. It is as she stares up at them that J.T. takes his shot, the explosion of noise startling the second guard as the first one goes down. The next shot rings out even louder as Zafrina falls to her side in exhaustion and shock, the second guard tumbling backwards to land near his recently dead partners.

J.T. emerges from the brush, calmly walks forward and without remorse unloads a second round into each body, ensuring that they would never rise again. He turns back to Zafrina's huddled form and softly places a hand upon her shoulder.

"Zafrina. It's alright now, everything's okay." His voice is the soothing tone that he normally reserves for Kevin.

"T-The children….did you get to them in time?" The question is muffled by her hand across her mouth as the other one clutches her stomach. He smiles his beautiful grimace at her concern for others after the ordeal she had just been through, even though the grief from having lost Ixia is still close to the surface.

"Yes. I gave the medicine to E. before I came after you. Zafrina you should have stayed at the cave, it's too dangerous out here." Frowning now J.T. glances back at the bodies on the forest floor before looking down at her still huddled form. "Now come on, let's get what we can from them and get back to the cave."

"I-I'm not going with you J.T." It is a whisper that might as well have been a shout.

"What?"

Zafrina turned to him then, her beautiful face marred by the blood from her nose and stares up at him with pain glazed eyes. "I can't go back with you J.T." The hand that clutched her stomach rose shakily and J.T.'s eyes are riveted on the blood that coats her palm and the spreading stain that soils her clothing.

He throws himself to his knees and pulls her form into his lap his mind frantic and the wolf howling in denial. "No. No. No….Zafrina don't do this. Don't leave me." He is begging now, begging in a way that he had never begged before. "Don't leave the children. They need you….I need you." The words burn his throat but he is willing to say them over and over again if it will keep her there. _He does not want to loose another, does not know if his soul can stand the lose of her on top of everyone else._ "Please. You promised me that we would be together, that we would all stay together. You promised."

"I-I'm so sorry J.T., I can't…keep that promise." Her blood drenched hand rose higher to cup his cheek and he grasped it with his own, holding it hungrily to his skin, careless of the blood that coated it and seeped into his clothes from where he holds her. He knows now why the second shot had seemed so very loud.

"Don't do this Zafrina." He is still pleading with her, but he knows that it is useless. He can feel the warmth being leeched from her skin, can see the light fading from her beautiful mahogany eyes. He can not keep her with him.

"Y-you'll take care of them…and y-yourself?" Her words are coming slower, her lashes fluttering, and her breath rattling in her chest.

"Of course. Always."

"I love you J.T., I wish we could have…" She exhales and does not inhale, her body going limp and her hand falling from his grasp.

He clutches her to him, unwilling to let go as he rocks her back and forth. "Zafrina wake up! Please wake up! Don't do this, don't go! Just wake up…." He does not know how long he stays that way, rocking her body and pleading with her to stay with him. He can feel the jagged pieces of his heart as they rip at him from the inside.

After an eternity he finally rises, laying her body softly on the ground as he turns and limps into the forest, her blood beginning to dry on his form.

Movements jerky like a puppet without all of its strings, he stops beneath a sprawling tree and gathers a large flat shaped rock in his hands. With all of his strength he thrusts it into the ground, over and over again as he painstakingly begins to dig his very first grave. It takes him hours to get it deep enough and long enough before he is satisfied, before he can bring himself to slowly drag her body to its final resting place. He stops to go through the guards things and find some bandages, and he uses them to cleanse the blood from her face before he wraps her in one of the thermal blankets he found in their packs. Grunting he places her as gently as he can into the ground and with each handful of dirt that he shifts over her he can not help but feel as if he is burying another piece of his soul.

_There can not be too many pieces of it left for he had already lost so many in his short life time._

When he is finished he retraces his steps and gathers from the guards what he can before covering them in a thick layer of leaves and branches. Mind blank and wolf still howling he sets back off for home. It is almost dark again when he arrives, stumbling into the cave and collapsing on the ground beside Kevin, waiting only a brief second before pulling the sleeping boy into his arms. His blood covered state tells the others without words that Zafrina would not be coming back.

He speaks to no one as E. tells him that the other children are recovering and that they had buried Ixia out by the edge of the forest. Instead he sits silently and rocks Kevin against his chest, his eyes reflective glass as they gaze out onto the cave and its inhabitants. He does not stir when Kevin finally awakes, when the others try and give him food. It is two days before he finally moves, finally rises from his place and heads outside to wash the blood from his form.

When he returns there is an emptiness in his eyes that had not been present before.

* * *

AN: The next chapter is the conclusion to the Tarsus saga and I hope that I have not tried anyone's patience with this part of the story. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

Oh and I would also like to say that the inspiration for the "If you can not change the outcome…" line was from Angel Baby1 and I have permission to use it. So thank you very much Angel Baby1 I deeply appreciate you allowing me to use the line!

Translations:

_Nam-tor karik_: Be strong

_Rish-tor_: Survive


	5. Little Red Riding Hood

Disclaimer: If I owned it…..well let's just say that no one anywhere would ever doubt that Kirk/Spock was canon (though honestly there shouldn't be any doubt anyways!)

Warnings: Same as all of the chapters that came before this one.

AN: Firstly this chapter is dedicated to Voices of Insanity. Thank you for making my day.

* * *

Little Red Riding Hood

* * *

J.T. changes even more after that day. He speaks even less than he had before, the others see him at night sitting in the corner of the cave that he used to always occupy with Zafrina, playing chess alone, his lips moving slowly but no sounds coming forward. They realize that he is even more affected by her death than they had known. Kevin tries to speak with him often, his newly healed and still weak form a constant companion to J.T. He is met with limited success as time goes by; for instead of words he is treated to long nights spent cradled in J.T.'s arms and silent lessons in chess that he tries his best to grasp.

J.T. still does his duties, still scavenges for food and useable items in the harsh winter planes of Tarsus. He is more methodical than ever and there is a viciousness to him that unnerves the others. The gash on his hip does not heal correctly; it is a raised ridge of flesh from where he had cauterized the wound, his face a blank mask as he ignored the others and their attempts to press bandages and assistance upon him. He wants that scar to be vivid, to heal jagged and wrong _like the pieces of his heart_ so he ignores the medkit and his knowledge of how dangerous burning a wound closed can be.

Winter hits its harshest point and their food dwindles rapidly. J.T. knows that he needs to scavenge for more, that the supplies that he had obtained will last only so much longer, but he also knows that after his last voyage into town the guard will be much heavier than before. _Briefly he wonders about the nutritional value of human flesh._ Instead he waits, bides his time by gathering water and wood for the others, by teaching Kevin to play chess and dreaming about Zafrina. Finally when Kevin is healed enough to be allowed out of the cave J.T. takes him and seven others deep into the forest to assist him in gathering the wood from a large tree that had toppled in the night.

It is hard work. They use rocks and the small tools that he had managed to gather to cut the wood down enough to be moved, and Kevin helps by fetching them what they need. Tom and E. are part of the team helping him, along with two older girls and three of the sturdier younger boys. Echo they had left at the cave to handle and guard those that had stayed behind. They settle down into the easy camaraderie that had allowed them to survive for so long, and J.T. is a grim yet appreciated presence as they joke quietly with each other and worked to gather what they had came for.

It is nearing evening when they finish. J.T. tells them with a jerk of his head and a gruff, "Enough." that they have gathered plenty and should be starting on their return trip. Almost silent chatter flows through the group as they go about getting their things together as he watches the surrounding woods with sharp eyes. He is instantly alert when he hears the tumbling rush of feet beating through the underbrush, his rifle is in his hands without a second thought and the others are behind him in the next instant. The air is deathly still as he waits, finger trembling on the trigger for the first sight of whoever it was charging through the trees. The sight of one of his older boys and Echo, who had been left at the cave, stumbling into the clearing are enough to momentarily shock him, before he rushes forward to clasp the other boy by the shoulders.

"What's wrong? What happened?" It is a sharp burst of sound in the clearing, mixing with their ragged breathing and when he does not receive an immediate answer he shakes the other boy roughly. "Echo! What happened!"

Echo is panting, his voice is a harsh rasp, "He snuck out of the cave," he motioned towards the other boy who J.T. noticed was carrying a pack. "I went after him as soon as I found out but it was too late," his eyes are wild when they met J.T.'s, wild and desperate, "J.T. they know! They know we're here and they're coming after us. I couldn't lose them…I tried J.T. but I couldn't lose them!"

J.T. erupts into movement then, wrenching the pack away from the other boy whose name he distantly recalled was Eames, and slinging it towards the two horrified females in the group. "Run. Take Kevin, get back to the cave and get the others together and keep them quiet. They can't catch females in this group; I know what they'll do to you if they do." The girls nod briefly before taking off, Kevin's hands clasped in theirs as their feet fly beneath them in order to take them far away as soon as possible.

His face twisted into a snarl he turns back to the other boys. "How many are there?" It is a curt demand for knowledge.

Eames shakes his head wildly, guilt marring his expression. "J.T. I'm so sor-"

"How many are there!" He cuts the boy of. He knows there is no time for useless apologies.

"Four, maybe five that I could hear. Too many for you alone J.T., you need our help." It is Echo that answers him and he hates to admit that they other boy is correct. He is slower now than he had been in the beginning, not as strong. Their lifestyle had taken its toll on him as well and he knew that he would not stand a chance against four to five fully grown and freshly feed guards.

He nods in acceptance before he removes his extra rifle from its place on his back and hands it over to Tom. Echo, Eames, E. and the others are taking up their places by his side when he feels a slight tug on the fabric of his shirt and a soft voice calls to him, the sound of it paralyzing him.

"J.T., I'm scared." It is Kevin, his darling pup that in the panic of the moment must have somehow slipped away from the girls and returned to his side.

His eyes slip shut in despair because he can hear them coming through the woods now, can hear their booted feet trampling the underbrush and knows that there is not enough time to send the boy away again.

"Just stay in the back Kevin, stay near the trees and stay out of the way." His voice is desperate as his eyes scan the trees ahead of him, trying to determine where they will emerge from. A small hand clasped his and for a moment he allowed himself to squeeze it in silent comfort. _"Rish-tor_ Kevin." He speaks the words that he had not allowed himself to utter since before the deaths of Ixia and Zafrina and surprisingly they still bring him a small measure of comfort. He unclasps his hand from Kevin's and steps forward, leaving his pup and taking his place at the head of the group, his shoulders squared and his eyes trained straight ahead.

His voice cuts across the silence of the clearing. "Remember, they took your families from you; your homes. It is us versus them."

He knows that it is an almost cruel reminder of the past but he also knows that these boys, his boys, are not used to killing like he is; _he never wanted them to be, wished desperately to spare them the suffering that came with it, _they are not used to watching as a life drains out into the soil because of something they had done. They need all of the strength that he can give them. He sees their jaws clench as determination steels their spines and the wolf within him howls in mingled victory and rage at the knowledge that his children were soldiers.

Rifle raised he is the first to fire as they break through the trees, his shot clipping the incoming guard in the temple and taking him down in an instant. The rest follow his lead, their shots flying wide with only a few actually finding their targets as the guards curse and duck back into the shelter of the woods. J.T. can hear them talking and is horrified that there are more than the four or five that Echo had estimated, much more. The knowledge that he can not retreat with his children slams into him, for if they flee the guards will pursue them and eventually the cave would be found. They must hold them where they are, they can not be allowed to advance.

"Look kids we just want to talk!" The voice of one of the guards cuts through the air, his words muffled slightly from his place in the underbrush.

"Then talk." J.T.'s voice is cold and stark, a harsh bite in the cold winter air.

"Where is the adult that takes care of you guys? I'd like to talk to them and try and work something out." The man's voice is coaxing, poison hidden behind sugar and J.T. knows better than to trust him.

"You'll talk to me or you'll eat a bullet."

There is rustling and a figure rises from the brush in front of him, hands raised in the air and body set in submissive lines. J.T. is not fooled; he knows a wolf in sheepskin when he sees one.

"You drive a hard bargain kid. We just want to talk to the leader of your little group and see if they're willing to come back to the settlement and speak with the Governor. There seems to be a little misunderstanding here." The man smiles, revealing perfect teeth behind plush lips. J.T. thinks of his children, of their cracked and bleeding lips and malnourished faces from the hell they had been forced to endure; he feels cold rage wash through his veins.

"A misunderstanding?" J.T. laughs, a hard bark of sound that is too weary and bitter for someone his age. "I would say that it is a bit more than a misunderstanding." He hears more men moving in the underbrush and his eyes narrow on the man before him. "Tell them to stop moving or I will shoot you, I promise you that."

"Now kid you don't want to do anything you'll regret later."

"It is far too late for that. Now tell them to stop moving." He is not in the mood for games; his mind is frantically trying to find a way for his children to escape this situation alive and whole.

"Alright guys you heard the boy, stop moving before something irreversible happens."

"J-J.T." Kevin's voice whimpers out from behind him and he barely stifles a sigh because as much as he cherishes the pup he can not afford to be distracted.

"Kevin stay put like I told you to."

"J-J.T. please…" The boy sounds as if he is on the verge of sobbing now and so with a nod of his head to the other boys to cover the trees he turns his head slightly and looks behind him to where he had last left Kevin.

His snarl of rage silences the area and he can see the nervous shifting of his group and the guard that stood in the middle of the clearing. Somehow a single man had managed to circle behind them during the confusion and now stood with Kevin's small frame clasped against his front, the barrel of a phaser pistol pressed against his delicate temple. He bared his teeth at the man, a feral expression of rage at his audacity, his sheer stupidity of using Kevin as a human shield. That was exactly what he had done; the boy's small body expertly adjusted to cover the guard's torso and to make any shot that J.T. or the others might have taken dangerous for Kevin.

"Now like I said we want to talk to your leader and then maybe we can work this misunderstanding out." The voice sounded from behind him, the guard that had distracted him in the first place speaking again.

"Let him go." J.T. spoke without ever taking his eyes off of the son of a bitch that held his pup. "Let him go and I won't kill you slowly."

The man who holds Kevin grins, a cocky flash of teeth, but J.T. can see the nervousness in his eyes, the uncertainty the man now feels when faced with such a feral child.

"Now now boy that isn't how this is going to work." The guard speaks from behind him again. "You and all of your little friends will put down your weapons and come with us or my friend here is going to put a hole in that boys pretty little head."

"J-J.T." Kevin's whimper slices through him and he knows that no matter how much he is aware that he should try and safeguard as many lives as possible, he can not take the chance that the guards will follow through with that particular promise. His eyes leave Kevin's form and the guard that holds him to glance at the others with him, the rest of his boys who still stood firm but for their eyes; eyes that sought his own for instructions.

He looks at them each in turn, meeting their eyes and searching their gazes. He can tell that they know what must be done, that to save others they would have to pay the price. _He desperately wants to spare them this as well. _His gaze hardens as he stares at them, trying to send a message to each of them in turn to say nothing, to speak not a word to anyone but each other.

Finally he locks eyes with Kevin once again as he opens his hand and allows his rifle to tumble to the ground at his feet, and he can hear the resounding noise of seven others following his lead. He sinks down to his knees, raising his hands and clasping them behind his head, his eyes never leaving Kevin's as the guards who had once been hidden rushed forward and made quick work of restraining him and his children.

"_Nam-tor karik_ Kevin." He speaks out to the boy one last time, trying to reassure his pup and himself before the butt of a rifle slams down into the back of his head and all goes black.

* * *

The cold shock of water drenching his form is what brings J.T. back into consciousness. Groaning softly he blinks away the spots that dance before his gaze as he stares at what appears to be a dank stone floor. Confusion coats his mind as he slowly tries to raise a hand upwards to cup the back of his head as it throbs harshly in time with his heartbeat, only to be brought up short by a sharp tug on his arm and the distinct rattling of chains.

Awareness slams into him at warp speed and he jolts upright as far and as quickly as possible, his eyes clenching shut involuntarily at the pain that radiated through his skull at the sudden movement. When he managed to pry them back open the first thing that meets his eyes is the glinting shine of brightly polished black boots. He follows them upwards to black pants creased sharply, and further to the smart grey uniform shirt that he has become so accustomed to in these past months. He keeps going until his eyes lock onto the face of the one who stood before him. The man was pale but not sickly; it was the light peach color of good health and a scholarly disposition. His hair was a rusty shade of red and accompanied by a meticulously groomed mustache and goatee.

He had the face of a kindly father, but it was his eyes that captured J.T.'s attention. They were shrewd, and possessed a calculating gleam that J.T. recognized as the look of a predator. He had dealt with plenty of them in his life, _Frank and the other children in the home, and later in life he recognized the same type of gleam in his own eyes and had learned not to look at himself too closely_ and he knew immediately that whoever this man was he was dangerous, possibly deadly.

"Do forgive the accommodations little one, normally the malcontents are far older and as such we are not equipped to deal with children. However if we can reach an agreement perhaps better lodgings can be arranged for you and your…compatriots." The statement was delivered in a calm voice and accompanied by a flippant wave of the man's hand towards the opposite corner of what J.T. had now surmised to be a cell.

He tracked the motion with his eyes and felt his heart skip a beat when his gaze landed on the still form of Kevin. His too thin body stretched what had to be painfully apart in order to be shackled to the wall in the same manner that J.T. himself was chained. He scanned the room and was relieved and yet dismayed to see the rest of his group restrained in the same manner. Relieved that they were alive and dismayed that none had managed to escape capture.

"Yes, yes your little friends are all guests of mine and besides a few unavoidable bumps and bruises they are all relatively…unharmed. Now, back to business shall we?" The man walked forward and stood until he was basically toe to toe with J.T., staring into sky colored eyes, his expression curious. "Do tell me where the adults that care for you are. I simply must met and have a lengthy discussion with them about the proper care of children." J.T. simply stared back at him, face blank and eyes heated.

The older man sighed and shook his head, the very picture of a disappointed father. "Child you should answer your elders when they speak to you, it is after all only polite. Now once again, where are the adults?" He was again met by stony silence.

The man turned his back to J.T. and walked a small distance away, speaking into a small device that he had retrieved from his belt that J.T. recognized as a compact communicator. He was unable to hear what he was saying but in the next instance the sound of footsteps echoed from the hall and another man entered the room. The second figure stopped to briefly salute and with a curt "Governor" he quickly rounded on J.T.'s restrained form.

It was in that instance that J.T. realized who had been talking to him, who the man in the room actually was. _Governor_ Kodos himself had ventured into the depths of his own prison in order to confront the individuals who had been brought in. His gaze riveted itself to the man, determined to take in every detail, every aspect and nuance of his appearance and mannerisms. He wanted that man, wanted his life to seep out onto the floor at his feet, _of all the blood he had spilled he wanted this man's more than any others, _wanted his death almost more than he wanted his next breath.

The guard who had entered the room chose that moment to unclasp his length of chain from the wall and send J.T. sprawling to the floor as his support was suddenly removed. He was on his feet in the next second, lunging across the room, hatred blazing in his eyes and a growl in his throat, as he tried his hardest to reach Kodos at his place by the entrance. He was brought up short with a brutal yank of his chains by the guard sending him once again sprawling to the floor, this time his vision blinking white as his head made contact with the unforgiving stone beneath him. His eyes were soon full of Kodos' smiling face.

"My, my. The men were indeed correct when they stated that you were quite the little animal were they not? I was not inclined to believe them when they informed me that you seemed to be the leader of the little band they found in the woods." Kodos flicked his fingers dismissively at the thought of their group. "I would have suspected that the adults would have left one of the older boys in charge but I seem to stand corrected. Not a mistake I aim to repeat let me assure you. Now then, guard if you will?" He motioned easily towards J.T.'s prone form and then to a set of blue shaded tiles in the center of the room.

The guard grasped the chains that bound J.T. and used them to drag his splayed form forward until he kneeled on the tiles and the chains sat in small piles around him. Kodos reached out towards the wall which he stood beside and pressed a small white button that almost blended into the stone. There was a brief humming noise that reverberated through the air before the chains that bound J.T.'s wrists shot upwards, slamming into the matching blue colored tiles on the ceiling and seeming to lock into place.

A cold feeling of dread seemed determined to settle into the pit of J.T.'s stomach, as he hung there trapped by his chains.

"Now normally I would not deal with such situations myself, but considering the circumstances I decided that I would rather handle such a delicate case personally so that I can assure it is carried out with the proper amount of care." From his position J.T. could not see the man as he spoke, but he could hear a shuffling sound behind him and then the evenly paced sound of footsteps approaching him. "I do wish that you would spare us both this unpleasantness and simply tell me what I wish to know. What do you say?"

J.T. allowed a harsh burst of air to escape his lungs in the form of a snort of disgust.

"Somehow I am not so surprised." A hand came down unexpectedly onto the top of J.T.'s head and he was unable to stop himself from flinching before it began to pick at his matted hair.

"I have found through recent events that the quickest way to quell these little rebellions is to attack them at the head. You see, breaking a leader is so much tougher than breaking a grunt. However breaking a leader also serves the dual purpose of demoralizing his followers. You may be a child, but these other children follow your lead according to my guards. So if you break they will fall into line so much quicker than if I was to have these little sessions with each of them individually. "The hand fell away from him and J.T. could hear the other man take a few steps back from him.

The air was still, and the wolf within J.T. was tense and pacing, scenting the air and nervous about his inability to see his enemy _if he couldn't see him J.T. could not brace himself for what was to come, could not take visual clues to prepare himself_. Then he could sense a flurry of movement and could hear the air whistle before something bit into his back with unrelenting teeth. J.T. screamed out, unable to contain his agony, a rough hoarse sound that rent the air in two. Fire had laced through his skin, sheer torture dancing across his nerve endings. A barely muffled cry from the corner of the room immediately sent his eyes to the side to latch onto the chained forms of his children on the opposite wall. He took in their horrified faces, their wind fearful eyes, Kevin's already tear soaked cheeks. His scream had pulled them back to reality.

Kodos' hand on his head snapped him out of his almost trance like state as the pain from his newest injury rang through his body. "That, my child, was a single lash from this Orion slave whip, a rather wonderful invention if I must say so. You see it has six individual tails, and each tail is covered in this little spines that dig into the flesh when deployed. I can of course control them. A single press of a button and the whip is simply leather; another press and you get a wound like the one you now sport. Do you really want more than the one that I just gave you? Just answer my questions and it will all be over." The hand on his head continued to pick at his hair as it had before.

J.T. took a shuddering breath, the wolf within him was infuriated at his own helplessness and determined to see this man dead now more than ever but he forced himself to think past the pain and to consider the situation. He knew that if he was to give into Kodos, to tell him where the rest of his children were, it would mean nothing more than a quick death for them all. If on the other hand, he could try to withstand this, try to stay alive, he might be able to buy himself enough time to formulate a plan before Kodos discovered that there were no adults guiding him. There was a slim chance that he just might be able to find a way out of the situation; one that did not end with the death of everything he now held of value. The odds were not good but Zafrina's words seemed to echo through his mind.

"_There are two sides to every coin. If you can not change the outcome J.T., then you must change the world."_

Those words had stayed with him, ringing through his mind at all hours of the day and night. J.T. knew that out of his two options he would only ever make one choice. He pulled himself together, unable to ignore the burning pain in his back where the whip had ripped through his ragged shirt and laid open his skin but unwilling to allow it to rule his mind.

"You whip like a bitch." It was delivered in the blandest tone of voice that he could produce as his eyes locked unseeingly on the stone wall directly in front of him.

The hand that had never ceased in its motions with his hair suddenly clenched and jerked itself backwards, his head helpless but do anything but follow. Kodos loomed over him, the man's black eyes glittering with a malicious light.

"You will regret that, far sooner I am sure than later, you will regret that wholeheartedly." The man retreated from J.T.'s sight, his hand finally releasing his hair and allowing his head to drop forward once again to the position it had previously assumed. J.T. could feel the man retreating, could hear his footsteps on the ground as he paced backwards.

J.T. knew what was coming next, knew in the depths of his being what Kodos intended to do to him. He knew and he accepted it. Accepted the fact that he would be beaten, tortured even, for information that did not exist. He knew that only his strength of will, his ability to endure, would keep his secret safe. Only those things would aid him in safeguarding his knowledge and through that knowledge his children's lives.

The kiss of the whip hurt worse the second time around than it had the first, the strike landing on the already torn section of his back. J.T. can feel the needle like teeth as they bite into his ravaged flesh, can feel them separate his skin and set blood to flowing forth as they are removed. He can not choke back the screams, can not stop himself from displaying that one weakness _it is almost a gift to him, to be able to voice the ripping hot agony that is flowing through his body. Almost a gift._

He finds himself unable to keep up with the number of times Kodos kisses his flesh with leather and steel. Can not tell where one of his screams ends and the other begins. It is a blur, a dazzling kaleidoscope of agony and the wordless screams of a being damned. It lasts an eternity to J.T. but the wolf that still paces within his mind tells him that it has been only minutes. The beast within soothes him, nudges at his psyche and tells him to scream, to let his foe believe his shrieks of pain are a true weakness and not the minor one that he had exposed. _He needs Kodos to believe he is correct, to be sure of the fact that he can break J.T.; to lower his guard so that his teeth could find his neck, his claws that deliciously soft underbelly._

Finally the strokes slow and seem to taper off until J.T.'s harsh breathing and the sound of his blood dripping on the floor fills the air in sick harmony to the un-muffled sobs of his children. J.T. can taste bitter copper and he knows that his throat has been damaged by his screams. His eyes are still unseeing as they focus on the wall before him but they sharpen directly into focus when Kodos once again steps into view.

His once pristine appearance is now freckled with blood, cast off J.T. realizes distantly, from his recoiling of the whip and the mad glow in his eyes is now fever-bright. He steps forward until he is once again uncomfortably close to J.T., staring into eyes that are now bright with pain and barely suppressed rage.

"It hurts doesn't it? I have been told it is a pain unto itself. I will end it child, will stop the pain if you would but tell me what I wish to know. A simple bit of information and you need not feel the whip again; you would be free from it. Do not refuse my mercy." His voice is cajoling as he speaks to J.T., the gentle tone a grotesque partner to his crimson speckled form.

J.T. is not fooled. He still knows better than to listen to this man. His head is woozy from blood loss and the pain but he is still lucid enough to know better than trust a wolf whose teeth gleam so brightly. He gathers what strength he has and in a single motion that hurts his body all over he spits directly in the man's face, watching in almost fascination as the wad of blood and saliva slowly trails down his cheek.

There is a moment of silence and then a flash of blinding pain as J.T. is struck across the face, the blow whipping his head to one side. The action is enough to send scorching tongues of flame across his body and once again J.T. knows no more.

* * *

It is a soft mechanic hum and the almost bee like sting of a hypospray in his neck that brings J.T. into reality this time. He is face down on the floor, his breath stirring the fine grains of dust and sand that seemed to coat the stones. There is a presence beside him and the wolf reacts without a second thought, surging upwards in his mind, telling him to attack the intruder _it is kill or be killed and he can not yet allow himself to taste death_ but he is brought up short by the pain that flares through his body and the chains that still bind him.

This way of waking is becoming almost familiar to J.T.

When the world finally stops spinning around him he manages to gain his knees. He is surprised to feel new strength in his body and is immediately suspicious. His eyes narrow and his head turns to his right, the side on which the injection of moments before had been administered. He is surprised and yet not at the sight that greats him. Kneeling on the floor beside him is a woman, intelligent green eyes focused on his face, dark brown hair restrained in a professional knot, her body clad in what appeared to be a serviceable white lab coat. Her hands are cool when they touch him, steady despite the low growl that rasps in his chest and vibrates in his already damaged throat when she administers another injection.

She is a doctor. J.T. recognizes her profession from the ease in which she handles her equipment, her smooth and almost second nature movements that mark her as a veteran of the medical field. For a brief moment he contemplates the fact that perhaps they had been saved, but the remaining weight of his chains stills that idea. Rescuers would not leave someone chained while they administered aid. The sound of footsteps and the sight of the guard who had been present with Kodos earlier confirmed the idea.

"Is the filthy little thing fixed now doctor?" The question is almost jovial.

"Indeed Governor Kodos should be pleased with my repairs." Her voice was smooth honey, dulcet and full as she stood and began to gather and repack her supplies. J.T. barely acknowledged the guard; instead his gaze remained focused upon her. "I used a dermal regenerator to close the wounds enough to hold off the danger of fatal blood loss. I also injected him with one dosage of a special steroid cocktail that will keep him awake and lucid enough to answer questions as well as another mixture that will make sure he lives long enough to be of use. The other children have also received a dose of nutrients to prevent starvation in the off chance that they are needed later should this one prove to be of no help."

J.T. snarled loudly at the thought of that bitch coming anywhere near his children with a needle, the sound causing the woman to lock eyes with him once again.

"That one is rather vicious Doctor, you should be careful with him." The guard warned.

"Hopefully this will not take too long. I do not relish the idea of being forced to continue practicing under such conditions." She looked away from J.T. then as she stalked to the door, her shoulders stiff from the weight of his freezing glare. The guard followed her out and the portal closed behind them with a soft snick.

J.T. cautiously took stock of himself. He could feel the cracking of dried blood upon his back but the bone splintering pain that had accompanied the stretching of his mangled skin was absent. That was not to say that the pain was not there; no it still hurt like thousands of flaming teeth were biting into his flesh but it was less severe than the soul wrenching agony that had forced him to scream until his throat bled. The bitch had been true to her word, the ribbons of flesh that had made up his back earlier were now healed back into one solid, albeit still painful, mass.

He could feel the false energy coursing through his body as the steroids began to affect his system in every respect. He was leery of the injection the woman had given him, she did not know his name not to mention his medical history, so there was a larger than normal chance that her concoction could have a negative affect on him and his children. For now though he would embrace the chemical strength and use it to keep himself and by proxy his children alive.

"J-J.T.?" The question-like whisper of his name pulls him from his eternal musings as the soft voice of Tom drifted across the room.

His eyes raised again to scan the walls of the chamber he was in, and he was relieved to see them all still in the same places they had been left, looking no worse for the wear but for the tear tracks that marred their faces. He scanned each of their forms individually meeting their eyes and hearing their sobs renew themselves after they each in turn released the breath they had been holding since the doctor had entered the room.

His eyes lock onto Kevin, those tear drenched toffee orbs that had pulled him in so long ago once again beseeching him for comfort. He wants nothing more than to wrap his boy in his embrace, to cradle him and stop his tears. He cursed the chains that kept him from doing so. Instead he smiled slightly at Kevin, that horribly beautiful exposure of teeth that he was so well known for.

"Kevin." The boys name is almost reverent, J.T.'s mangled throat forcing his voice out in a harsh and unforgiving way, distorting it to an even gruffer tone than was normal for him.

"J.T.!" His answer is a chocked sob that shakes the boy's entire underweight form.

Quietly he murmurs his customary words of comfort, noticing that the others also seemed to relax at the soft, albeit rough, tone that he used. He continued to talk, ignoring the fresh blood that coated his mouth as he strained his throat. The doctor had not been as thorough as she liked to believe. He spoke, pushing his own discomfort aside in favor of doing all in his power to calm his children, to stop the sobs that stole their breath and the tears that blurred their eyes.

One by one they calmed; his voice and his unrelenting presence doing a fine job of easing their fears more than actually seemed possible in the situation. Their faith that J.T. would find a way out of their predicament was awe inspiring.

"What are we going to do now J.T.? The security is strong and well managed, there's no way for us to get out of here. We can't win this one." Echo's voice floated to his ears across the still dungeon air.

His head rotated slowly, his eyes steel as they locked onto those of one of his oldest boys. "Do not ever say that again Echo. Do not ever say that we can not win something. There is no such thing as a no-win situation." It was snarled in a tone of voice that was rarely directed towards his children and yet he was not sorry for it. The thought of one of his pack even beginning to voice thoughts of failure out loud set his teeth on edge and the wolf snarling.

The older boy flinched, a violent action that shook his frame and made something inside J.T. clench at the sight of it though he still was not sorry. Instead he softened his voice slightly, that underlying cord of steel that was so much a part of him still present but not as apparent. "I won't let them destroy us. I will not break for them so easily and give them what they want. I will die first." He wishes he could say more, wishes that he could reassure them with specifics, with the knowledge that as long as they were still alive that the cave was safe. He chose not to say those things aloud, unsure as to the security of the room itself and instead settled for sweeping his gaze once more around the room and speaking in the husky rasp that was now his voice.

"You are mine. All of you have been mine from the moment that you were reborn into this hell. You will continue to be mine until the moment you breathe your last." He strained forward against his bonds, forcefully looking at each of them head on. "You are mine. My children. My pack." He lets himself say the words out loud for the first time _it feels good to snarl the declaration, to lay claim to them somewhere besides his mind_. "They will never take you away from me."

The others nodded at him, their eyes wide and awe stricken for they have never seen J.T. so adamant about anything. Normally he was ice frosted flame; warmth buried beneath a chill of untamed wildness. Tarsus had aged them all _but in so many ways they were still only children when compared to J.T. _and they each in their own way were able to recognize the emotion in his voice.

Possession.

Pure, simple, unadulterated possession. He owned them, minds, bodies and souls in every sense of the word. Yet in all of their youthful wisdom they could find no fault in his ownership, his custody. Indeed they had each given themselves over to him long ago. They knew J.T. would kill for them, had killed for them, and would in all likelihood kill for them again. He would do all in his power to keep them alive even if it meant his own demise. He was willing to die for them; seemed to accept it as an inevitable outcome. No they had no qualms with his ownership for they each knew that they would find no better master than he.

When J.T. could see the calm and confidence fully settle across their faces he allowed himself to relax slightly, to stop straining against his bonds and to give his screaming muscles rest. He meant what he said to them, he would never willingly allow them to be taken by the monsters that lived here. J.T. intended to try and figure out a way for them to survive through this situation, someway for them to once again escape death. He could still feel the chemicals coursing through his body and he mentally went over everything he could remember about steroids and their side effects before determining that the price his body paid was well worth it if they gave him the strength to pull through.

He had made a promise to his children, a promise to get them out alive, to make sure that they survived this. _He would keep that promise, would keep it or would take it to hell with him._ He would survive for as long as he could, would shoulder the torture and use his every clear minute to think of something, anything, _please God if you exist let there be something_ that would help them to escape alive.

He did not have a choice.

* * *

Days passed, a handful at most, and he marked their passage with whips and blood, with lab coats and alien strength that burned at his muscles and sharpened his mind unnaturally. A routine of torture and healing. Torture that ripped his physical body down but left his mental one untouched; healing that did nothing to alleviate the pain, only to staunch the blood flow and to seal the flesh. Everyday Kodos would come and everyday J.T. would refuse to relent and his children would refuse to interfere. They did nothing to try and stop blood from being spilt. They did not beg or offer information, instead they cried silently, _he was grateful for that small thing for he could not stand the sobs_ and looked on with pain filled eyes.

J.T. had never been prouder.

His pride, however, was not enough to aid him in an escape attempt. He tried all that he could think of but it was to no avail. The bonds were secure and without the use of his hands many of his possibilities were forcefully ruled out. The guards that seemed to forever huddle outside the door were instructed to never get too close to him, to maintain their distance and to be wary of him and the other children. Kodos and the doctor visited daily but the magnetic tile that secured his chains in those moments offered little to J.T. in the way of movement.

The situation was truly beginning to look hopeless but J.T. refused to admit defeat. He would not go against his newly adopted doctrine, would not betray Zafrina _her memory was one of the few pure things that he had left _by giving up. He began to grow desperate, began to run through plan after plan in his mind, the drugs that coursed through his system sharpening his thoughts to an even finer degree of focus than he was used to.

Finally he concocted an idea, an unorthodox and crazy idea, but an idea nonetheless. He would supply Kodos with false information and would send him on a hunt for nonexistent people that would force J.T. to accompany him and would lead to a location that would require few guards and would give him the home field advantage. It was a foolish and half-cocked plan but it was better than the slow death by blood loss and torture that he was currently facing. It would at least give him the chance to escape, the chance to save his children.

He never got the chance to put his foolhardy plan into action for the next morning Kodos did not arrive. Nor the day after that.

J.T.'s head was beginning to spin, his mind losing focus as the drugs began to work their way out of his system completely without his usual dosage. He could feel his heartbeat in his chest one moment and would then forget to breathe in the next. The world around him spun; a sadistic spiral of colors and sounds that seemed to exist only to torment him. He knew distantly that he was going through withdrawals. His hallucinations and pain were because of the lack of a new influx of whatever cocktail the doctor had him on. It progressed through time that he did not even bother trying to measure. Only the children speaking to him, their tongues loosened after two days with no visitors as confusion and worry clouded their minds, kept him sane.

It was as he shivered from the cold sweat that withdrawals had forced upon him that the cell door once again slid open. He girded his strength, preparing himself as best he could to fight, to survive, to deal with anything that was going to come his way. _He knew deep inside that this encounter he might not survive, that his will would only get him so far before his broken body forced him to cash out, and yet still he would not admit defeat. Never admit defeat. Zafrina._ He lifted his head, eyes focusing straightforward and only sheer will kept them from slipping closed under the sheer exhaustion that weighed him down.

He could hear voices in the hall through the now open door, unfamiliar voices, not those he had taken painstaking care to memorize. Not those that he knew he would recognize in the dead of night as belonging to people who would be deeply improved by death. He could hear footsteps, the shuffling of cloth against skin as the unknown people on the other side of the door moved ever closer. It seemed to take them an inordinate amount of time to enter but finally someone did.

He noticed her hair first; a warm brown with streaks of muted gold and the subtle red of leaves in the fall that was pulled back into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Her head was down, her attention focused on the data pad in her hands allowing J.T. to observe her before she even realized that he and the others were in the room.

He watched her movements, noted the familiar silver case at her side and the blue uniform top that struck something within him. It reminded him of something that he knew he should remember but the haze in his mind caused by the drugs leaving his system prevented him from grasping what it was. It was in that moment that one of his children shifted, he did not know who for even impaired he did not take his gaze from her form, and the rattling of their bonds yanked her attention upwards. Her gaze locked onto J.T., bottle green eyes clashing with icy blue as the pad she had been perusing tumbled from her grasp and landed on the unforgiving floor beneath her.

J.T. watched, almost sickly fascinated, as her gaze quickly swept first his form and then the room, landing and lingering on each of his children as her eyes widened in horror and disgust. That outward display reassured J.T. _if she was shocked she did not expect them and if she was not prepared she would make mistakes_ but he could not repress the snarl that ripped through his bleeding throat as she quickly stepped forward, face distraught and hands outstretched towards his form.

The sound seemed to shock the woman out of her stupor as she visibly shook herself and reached with unsteady hands for the communicator that rested innocently against her side, her eyes never once leaving J.T. She fumbled with it for a moment before she managed to flip it open, her voice fractured by the tremor of distress that laced it.

"This is Ensign McGee to _U.S.S. Farragut _requesting immediate emergency medical aid in gamma quadrant of the central facility. I have located survivors. I repeat, I have located survivors and request immediate emergency medical aid. _Farragut_ please respond." The desperation in her voice was plain for all to hear as was the relief that washed over her when a crisp voice responded to her pleas.

"This is the _Farragut._ The emergency response team is being locked onto your coordinates and should arrive shortly. Captain Garrovick has issued a standing order for any and all personnel who might come into contact with survivors to be prepared to give a report, in full, about their findings. _Farragut_ out."

The connection was severed as the now identified woman quickly closed and replaced the communicator on her side. In those moments J.T.'s brain finally caught up with the situation as a whole and the realization of what had happened finally hit him.

Starfleet it seemed had arrived at last.

* * *

AN: I know that this chapter took some time to get out but it was a bit harder to write since I was focusing on wrapping up the Tarsus saga and moving on to the next part of the story. I do wish to once again thank everyone that has reviewed this story so far and I do look forward to talking to you all again after this chapter.

If anyone has any questions, concerns, requests, or random conversation that they wish to share please feel free to either leave it in a review to private message me so that we can speak in depth. I do so love talking with you all about anything and everything under the sun!

Translations: _Rish-tor: Survive._


	6. One Hundred and One Dalmatians

Disclaimer: If I owned it…..well let's just say that no one anywhere would ever doubt that Kirk/Spock was canon (though honestly there shouldn't be any doubt anyways!)

Warnings: Same as all of the chapters that came before this one.

AN: Wow…you guys are amazing! Your responses to the last chapter have once again blown me out of the water! I do wish to assure people that this is a Spirk fic and that Spock will arrive but that it will take some time since this is about more than just their romance. This story is detailing Jim's life and as such it will take some time for Spock to arrive, but I repeat that he will be here.

I would also like to say that if anyone knows any good bedtime stories, fairytales, fables, or things of that nature that might possible fit in with this I do hope they will drop me a line or leave it in a review.

On another note I would just like to say that I do wish that my anonymous reviewers would please please set up an account so that I may shower you with my thanks and love! Until then I will have to simply say thank you at the bottom of the chapter!

* * *

One Hundred and One Dalmatians

* * *

They had to cut through the chains that bound J.T. to the wall with their hand phasers.

The metal was imbedded too deeply into his skin from his struggles and "persuasion" sessions to simply remove without the reopening of wounds and the lose of blood that he could scarcely afford. They had wanted to wait, to remove him from his place last so as to allow the medical team time to assess his condition but he had refused. His scream roughened voice had brooked no arguments as he had barked at them to unbind him first and they, unwilling to upset someone in his delicate condition had acquiesced.

He was unwilling to remain chained in place as his children were freed around him; unwilling to take the chance of being helpless as they were snatched from their places by the strangers in front of him. Instead he would be unbound first. This would spare his children the pain of a mistake should the adults in the room misjudge something during their first encounters with the bonds that held them, and allowed him a free range of movement to better aid in an attack should something go pear-shaped. _It did not matter if he would die in an attempt, for he would never quietly watch his children be taken from him._

He shuffled between his children, watching the adults but ignoring their curious expressions. He had more important things to do besides pandering to their questions. His body shook; the cold sweat and weakness from before still with him but he managed to salvage enough strength to force his withered body to heed his commands. The adrenalin that coursed through his system at the appearance of strangers helped him to keep his feet though he knew it would not last long if something was not done.

The adults in the room moved slowly and yet efficiently, gentle professionalism in their every motion. J.T. knew that they were trying their hardest to not frighten the children _they were so young and yet so old now, tainted and aged beyond their years but still so much younger than he_ but he refused to blindly trust them. _Long ago he had learned that those he was supposed to trust might not necessarily be the ones he should, more often than not they bore the most watching._

So he watched, once more a silent observer as he forcefully pushed back his instincts; the wolf that circled in his mind, snarling and howling at the sight of strangers touching his children, his pack. He forced himself to allow it, to watch over the proceedings with all-encompassing eyes, but to allow it. _His pack needed care; care that he himself could not provide so he was forced to swallow the growls and to allow it. For now._

It was in what he could tell were the final moments of the care that could be given to them in their current location that he approached the woman who had entered the room first, the one called Ensign McGee. Her hands had steadied out over the length of time that they had been present in the room but he could still see the revulsion in her eyes, the sickness that was infecting her soul at the sight of his children and the fragile state of their bodies. _He knew that it had to be for his children and not himself for J.T. had learned long ago that something about him tended to set adults teeth on edge. He had accepted it and eventually learned to use it._

She started when he appeared beside her, his shuffling walk doing little to break through her haze of intense concentration as she bent dutifully over a data pad even if he was unable to summon his usual degree of stealth. Their eyes connected as they had the first time and J.T. watched with a detached sense of sick amusement as she struggled to contain her grimace at the sight of him.

"I-Is there something you need?" Her voice wavered for a moment, hesitation and confusion over his presence at her side flickering across her face.

"You're a medical officer." It was a statement more than a question. He knew what she was, had connected the dots between her blue uniform and the silver case at her side.

"Yes." Her confusion was even more apparent now, sliding through her eyes and settling around her mouth.

"I need you to dose me with something that will keep me up and moving." He spoke steadily, his words precise and clipped. He knew that he would not be able to keep his feet for much longer and as loathe as he was to place even a modicum of trust in these unknown people, he also knew that he had others besides the ones in the room with him who depended on his abilities.

The officer's face rearranged itself into an unpleased frown. "Look kid I can't do that. With the state of health you are in there is no telling what dosing you would do to your body now not to mention your immune system and regenerative capabilities in the future. Why don't you relax now and just let us handle this situation…."

He cut her off with ruthless precision. "It was not a request. You will dose me. Refusal is not an option." He could see the indignation in her face at his brusque tone but he would not bend on the issue. He had others, more cubs that needed to be found and rescued. _For they were alive, had to be alive. If he had failed them he would rip this planet apart with claws and fangs; would pull the moons from the sky and hunt down every one of the corrupted four thousand who had allowed them to find death._

She seemed to slump in defeat, her shoulders collapsing inward as her hands disappeared for a second to sift through her bag before reappearing with a hypospray containing a cool blue liquid. Her face lifted, gaze meeting his own as she reached out to do as he had asked. He watched her steadily, unable to stop from swaying slightly on his feet, his instincts not allowing him to take his eyes from her face.

"This is a type of adrenal stimulator." Her eyes flickered up and to the right. "It should keep you on your feet for a couple of hours more but that is all I am willing to do. " She was inches from him then, and the instincts that had governed most of his actions throughout the years were all that saved him. His hand snapped out, striking the hypospray and sending it flying through the air to land with a harsh click on the ground across the chamber. The room became deathly still as the others turned to face them, curiosity and worry in every face in the room.

"Do not ever attempt that again." His tone was winters bite turned song. Her face was startled and her still outstretched hand trembled. J.T. knew that his gut reaction had been correct. She was lying.

"I-I was simply doing what you asked for." It was too late for her protestations, he knew the truth. She had attempted to sedate him, to put him down since she so obviously knew what was better for him than J.T. himself did.

He sneered at her, his swaying form not detracting from the contempt on his face. "I told you that I need something to keep me moving, not something to knock me on my ass. You attempted the opposite."

"You're just a child! You need to let the adults handle the situation!" The woman had gained her feet by then, self-righteous indignation radiating from every fiber of her being.

J.T. could feel his eyes narrowing further, fury flushing his veins and burning his heart with icy flames. He could sense the wolf grow deathly silent, watching, waiting for the chance to take out this usurper who thought to take away his control.

"Would anyone care to explain why one of my medical officers is partaking in a confrontation with someone who is clearly a victim of the atrocities of this planet?" The question, delivered in the smooth baritone of an older male cut through the room like lightening. The personnel scattered around the chamber hurriedly threw their bodies to attention and shot off hasty salutes at the sight of a figure dressed in command gold entering the room.

Captain Garrovick himself.

The man wasted no time assessing the situation and J.T. could easily see what had made the other male the commander of a starship. His figure was imposing without inspiring sheer fear, and he held himself with a confidence that most men lacked. J.T. knew an alpha when he saw one and Garrovick practically exuded superiority and control. J.T. refused to back down when their eyes locked, instead he met the other mans bright amber gaze head on, acknowledging his authority but refusing to shrink under the weight of it.

Without looking away from J.T. Garrovick addressed the medical officer who stood at attention beside the younger male, medical bag still open at her feet.

"Ensign I believe that I asked you a question and I expect an answer." His tone was light but steel laced it and the now flustered medical officer quickly began to stammer a response.

"S-Sir the child requested that I inject him with something that would allow him to continue to be active and when I refused while citing possible health risks he vehemently rejected the idea and demanded a stimulate of some sort. When I attempted to placate him so that I could instead sedate him he reacted violently which led us to the altercation you just witnessed. Sir."

J.T. did not bother to contain the feral twist of his lips at the others words, he despised it when someone attempted to treat him as a child, to assume that they knew better due to their age. His eyes still locked with those of the captain he could see the speculation in the others gaze.

"Ensign did it ever occur to ask the young man why he made such a request?" This question was delivered in a softer yet no less solid tone of voice.

"No Sir." Her voice was low and slightly ashamed. Garrovick's eyes strayed to her for but a second and J.T. could see the compassion in them before they dismissed the ensign and returned to settle once more on J.T.'s beaten form.

"I thought not. Young man would you care to inform us as to why you actually made the request?" J.T. for once felt no need to attempt subterfuge. Garrovick was open, honest. If he wished harm on J.T. it would have be apparent from the beginning. That did not mean that J.T. would trust the man more than he had to.

"How many others from the black lists have you found?" J.T. asked his question first, needing to know if there were more who had been slated for death besides his pack who had survived.

"Including this group the report has them numbering in the teens. Why do you ask?" Garrovick's sharp amber eyes focused on him, narrowing until all they could see was the blonde haired, steel eyed animal of a child before him.

"There are more, over a dozen more, hiding and only I know how to find them and get them to come with you." J.T. knew it was the truth, his children who had been imprisoned with him did not know the lay of the land well enough to lead Starfleet personnel back to the caves, and the children there would never trust adults without his approval.

The older man's gaze swept the room, shifting through the faces of J.T.'s children, looking at them each in turn. Assessing them much as J.T. tended to do before he addressed them as a group. "Is this true? Is he the only one of you who can get us to other survivors?" The children were caught off guard at being directly addressed in such a manner and after taking reassuring glances at J.T. that went unnoticed by no one they each in turn nodded their agreement.

"J.T. always made the runs between there and town alone. He knows the woods and land better than anyone." Tom's quiet voice floated upwards from his place upon the ground, his face half obscured by the fresh medical gauze that covered his wound.

"The others won't come out unless J.T. tells them to anyways. If you tried to force your way into them you would only have a fight on your hands." Echo's solemn tone breached the silence that followed the previous statement.

Garrovick nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement before once again turning his attention to J.T., his gaze even more assessing as it trailed over his blood stained form taking in the shackles that still covered his wrists and the tattered remnants of his clothing. "Ensign, find something to keep him on his feet. As much as it pains me to say so we can not afford to let him pass out on us just yet. Get him up and find a way to keep him moving. Since the transporter will not be an option due to medical conditions we will be taking a land transport to the location and it will serve to aid in evacuating any black list survivors. We move out in ten minutes."

Without further adieu Garrovick spun on his heel and marched from the room. J.T. turned to face Ensign McGee at the sound of her nervous cough at his shoulder and was greeted by her stoic face and the burgundy liquid filled hypospray in her hands. He knew the officer had been correct, more drugs in his system were not something he needed or could truly handle but he had no choice.

The sting of the needle as it entered his neck was a necessary and hardly noticeable thing as the chemical strength once again rushed through his body and he could feel the trembling that had plagued his muscles begin to retreat. There was nothing he would not do for his children.

He had fallen from grace long ago, but even in his damnation he would not allow his children to be condemned as well.

* * *

The next two hours of his life were grueling. It seemed as if he had to fight against everyone to have things done the way they needed to be done. Everyone except Captain Garrovick. The man was the only one out of the entire _Farragut_ crew who seemed inclined to actually listen to him. He was the only one who seemed to understand that for months now J.T. and the others had been on their own and that accepting others into their fold would take time. If it ever came to pass at all. Garrovick was happy to listen to J.T.; to humor the other male in his demands that were cleverly disguised as requests.

Leaving Kevin and the others behind was one of the hardest decisions he had faced but he refused to risk their health by dragging them through the ordeal retrieving the rest of the children was sure to become. _He did not want to leave them for he could not protect them while absent but the price their bodies would pay would be too great._ It was only after much reassurance as to the security of the area, and a whispered conversation between him and Tom had he finally forced himself to separate from his Kevin and managed to claw his way unassisted into a nearby transport.

He was joined shortly by Garrovick and a few other unnamed security personnel as well as another medical officer. He glanced back only once, but he knew that the image of his children watching him leave would be forever seared into his memory.

The trip seemed to take too much time and yet too little, _it was a different experience, riding almost leisurely to his destination instead of running or slinking through shadows_ the journey filled with an almost tense silence broken only by the peppering of questions from Garrovick on what to expect upon reaching their destination.

J.T. contemplated his situation before he settled on answering the man's questions with more truth than lies. Even if that feral part of him wished to snarl and rage against the not so subtle prodding he knew that his cooperation was essential to his children receiving the care they so desperately needed.

That train of thought in mind he responded succinctly to each question but he was careful not to give away too much. He informed Garrovick that he did not know for certain what they would be walking into since he had been unable to return for a number of days now. He told the man that his people should watch and wait, that there could be bloodshed if things went wrong or someone jumped the gun. He stated that he would approach the cave first and that on his signal they could come forward.

Garrovick agreed and J.T. knew that the mans decision was based only partly on believing J.T. and mostly on a desire to get a feel of the situation and not upset any "black-listers" as they had begun to refer to the four thousand who had not been so lucky as to be deemed worthy of life.

Finally though they were there, forced to travel by foot for the last half mile or so by the trees that surrounded the area. J.T relished the moments, concentrating on keeping his feet moving and drawing in as much of Tarsus as he could _for as much as he hated the planet and the horrors it had visited upon his children he loved it with every fiber of his being and he knew that change waited for him at the end of this journey_. The world moved in a swirl of molted colors, browns and greens churning together until they clouded J.T.'s mind and he barely remembered breaking through the trees and moving into the clearing, calling out the customary shrilling whistle that signaled his return.

He heard a shout from the cave and the wolf relaxed just a smidgen at the knowledge that someone was still alive in there, that the silence that permeated the woods around his den was not the silence found in death. He listened and watched; his eyes sharp and his ears keen to the sounds of footsteps coming up the tunnel and the accompanying and comforting sound of metal scrubbing against cloth and skin. The beautiful sounds of a rifle being adjusted that had become a sort of comfort to him after so many days with it as his constant companion.

He stepped forward into the winter light that shone weakly on the clearing; stepped forward towards the cave opening, away from the adults who waited breathlessly in the trees and closer to his world and the magnificent sound of footsteps on rock as one of his children came to greet him.

It was a dark skinned youth named Taranas who finally rounded the corner and came into sight. He was one of the older children, one of the ones who had rebelled against J.T. in the beginning but who had come to depend on him the most in the weeks that followed. J.T. was proud to see the other boys assessing gaze, to watch as he took in his surrounding, eyes wary before they brightened and his face was lit with a blinding grin when he finally saw J.T.

"J.T." Taranas breathed out the name, reverence in his tone and worship in his eyes as he hesitated for a brief moment before springing forward, long legs eating up the ground between them. He stopped only when he was directly in front of J.T. and then only so he could throw himself onto his knees before the shorter male, wrap his arms around his waist and bury his face in the others stomach.

J.T.'s hands rose of their own accord to bury themselves in his child's hair. He was still so very unaccustomed to touch that he himself did not initiate but he would not deny comfort to one of his pack. Comfort that was desperately needed if the sobbing he could hear was anything to go by. Gently he grasped Taranas by the face and lifted his head so that he could look into his eyes. Softly he thumbed away the tears that rained down from copper colored orbs and with that macabre twist of his lips that was solely him he smiled.

"I'm home." His declaration was soft and yet it carried such power within it.

Taranas breathed shakily, his shoulders shuddering with effort as words began to spill from his lips, hysteria in every syllable, relief in every phrase as he struggled to speak through his sobs. "We didn't know….we waited, but we didn't know. The girls came back…with the food….and the pack….and we waited but you never came. We were so scared J.T…..so scared. We thought you were dead and we knew we would be to. We were so scared…..so scared…."

J.T. shushed him, wrapped his arms around the older boy's shoulders and rocked him back and forth, his voice a low growling caress as he tried to calm the other boy's tremors. He could feel the adults behind him, could practically taste their scents in the clean air that surrounded him in the wild. He braced himself as best he could for their reactions for he knew in some corner of his mind what they expected and he could not help but to laugh mockingly at them from the depths of his soul while he continued to comfort his child. They truly had no idea about what had really happened.

Finally when Taranas could breathe without sobbing J.T. stepped back from the boy slowly and when their eyes met again he softly declared, "It's over." With that he stepped to the side and Taranas could clearly see the figures that he had missed before, the people that he had overlooked in his joy of seeing J.T. once more. His eyes widened and he scrambled to back away, hands reaching for the rifle that hung forgotten by its shoulder strap before J.T.'s steady hand on his shoulder stopped his movements.

Forget-me-not-blue eyes stared back at him as J.T. slowly shook his head. "It's alright Taranas, it's okay. They're here to help. It's Starfleet and they are here to help everyone and make sure you get the proper care and are reunited with any family you might have." _For J.T. they could do little but heal his body, for in the end he had kin but no home, relatives but no family who would willingly shelter him._

Taranas haltingly nodded to show his understanding, his now natural distrust of strangers warring with his instinctual need to trust and obey the younger boy. J.T. patted his head once more, the gesture reminiscent of a father dotting on a bright son before he turned to face the silent officers behind him.

"Stay in the trees and try not to draw attention to yourselves, I don't want them frightened any more than necessary." When Garrovick gestured his agreement, his face a stunned mask after witnessing such a reunion and Taranas had once again gained his feet, J.T stepped forward and whistled once again, a high clear note that carried across the clearing. Instantly he could hear the response it garnered, could hear the multiple pairs of feet coming up the tunnel as his children responded so quickly he knew they had each been on edge waiting to see what would happen.

The first few broke through the cave entrance and the scene with Taranas was quickly repeated, only to be followed up by another and then another as each child passed through the threshold and glimpsed J.T. for the first time. J.T. moved through them one by one, stroking faces and touching hair, offering comfort that he was not used to giving so blatantly but knew was desperately needed.

The wolf purred in pleasure, a feral joy in his heart at seeing each of them there and alive.

When they were all there and the sobs had finally died down to whimpers and whispered gratitude he finally imparted upon them the knowledge that he had given Taranas. They cringed as a whole at the sight of strangers, but slowly J.T. could see the hope that bordered on disbelief that was invading each of their faces.

Garrovick and his men approached from the trees slowly, their movements exaggerated and deliberate in an effort to put the children at ease. J.T. stood, tall and proud in the center of his pack as his children flinched towards him automatically at the approach of the strangers, their uniforms alone sending terror shooting through their hearts. _J.T. knew that feeling for the last time he had experienced anything to do with military uniforms it had been followed by death and blood, pain and rage. He understood their mistrust._

It took hours and another stimulant for J.T. before the children could be squared away. They huddled together like frightened animals in the back of one transport, J.T. himself almost lost in a sea of dirty limbs and grasping hands as they each sought to touch him again, to gain comfort from him. They spoke to him in whispers. Told him through broken sobs how the girls had returned that day in the woods with the pack of food that had been stolen and the news that J.T. and the others had stayed to fight.

The two girls themselves approached him, shoulders shaking with barely repressed grief as they pleaded with him, begged for his forgiveness for letting Kevin get away from them. He patted their hands somewhat awkwardly and told them not to worry, that the fault was not their own and that Kevin and the others were safe.

There were more tears and hugs, soft sobbing and crushing embraces when they finally returned to the facility and the other children were reunited with the ones who had went missing along with J.T. He looked on, a scared and weary protector who knew that the fight that had always kept him going was almost gone. He could feel it inside of him, knew that once this last stimulant ran its way through his blood he would fall, collapse were he was standing and that no amount of will power would be able to get him up again. He had reached his limit and only drugs and a desperate need to settle his children kept him going as it was.

He did not know if he would survive the crashing of his drugged system and as such there were things that needed to be attended to. He decided to find Garrovick once again, his mind whirling with questions that need to be asked and answered, things that needed settling. He searched for the man and finally found him leaning against the side of one of the shuttlecrafts that would transport them back to the _Farragut;_ his eyes hooded and watchful as he silently took in the commotion around him as people bustled back and forth preparing to depart.

J.T. approached him silently if not a bit unsteadily, he could feel the drug as it raced through his system and could feel the blackness that was slowly encroaching on his vision. They gazed at each other for a moment before J.T. broke the silence.

"You have questions that need to be answered before I am incapable. The stimulant in my system will not be effective for much longer." J.T. was calm outwardly though the wolf rebelled against openly admitting a weakness. _J.T. was slowly becoming used to stifling his instincts in these situations; he was beginning to realize that sometimes to get what he wanted he would need to play a certain role. But that could wait until later, if there was a later._

Garrovick's eyes were sharp as he nodded his agreement. "You're correct. There are things that need to be cleared up." He paused for a moment, seemingly asking for permission to continue. J.T. gave a curt nod. "I need to know how many there were of you in the beginning, what happened to the adults who were with you, how long you were in that cave, and how you came to be in the condition in which you were discovered."

J.T. stiffened as much as his wavering body would allow, an almost sense of incredulity sweeping over him. He had thought that Garrovick with his sharp eyes and perceptive mind would have understood by now, would have figured out the pieces of the puzzle from seeing his reunion with his children. He would be disappointed if he actually had any expectations left for others.

"The children numbered at two more than now. One was lost to fever and the other was murdered by patrolling guards. The cave served as shelter since the beginning and those of us who were locked away were taken by a patrol unit who chased one of the others after he was caught stealing food." J.T.'s voice was hard and low, anger vibrating in the back of his mind at the memories those few lines brought forth. Unwilling to go into any further detail at the moment he turned, intending to return to the shuttlecraft were Kevin and the others waited and try desperately to remain in control of his body until he could find a place were he could collapse alone.

A warm and unwelcome hand upon his shoulder stopped him cold, a snarl escaping his throat at the unexpected touch. He managed with effort to calm himself and look back over his shoulder at Garrovick who could not completely contain the surprised look upon his face at once again witnessing one of J.T.'s more feral reactions. The man's composure returned quickly though, his mouth set in a hard line as his eyes searched J.T.'s face.

"You did not mention the adults. What happened to them?"

Barely repressing the urge to sigh J.T. locked eyes with Garrovick for a moment before he turned his head away, his gaze automatically straying to and staying on the figures of his children as they sat patiently around the shuttlecraft. "I would have thought you would have figured it out by now Captain. There are no adults, there never was. Since the beginning it has been only me and the children. The only adults we ever came across were the ones trying to kill us."

"I am afraid I do not understand." Garrovick's voice was low and J.T. could sense the impatience and frustration that was barely concealed. He was surprised the man had made it this long; most other adults were on edge immediately after meeting J.T.

"No, I didn't think you would. I doubt if anyone else will ever understand." _How could they understand without having lived through it? Only survivors understood the true horror of genocide. The fear and rage that ate at your soul until you were a malformed thing, a shallow copy of what you once were. Yet J.T. knew that he had been distorted long before the massacre._ In the distance he could hear crew members shouting that the shuttles were ready and that once the children were on board they could be underway.

He left then, knowing that he should stay and explain things, knowing that he would not be able to escape their question for as long as he lived but unwilling to do it now. He wanted to clasp Kevin to his breast and lock the boy in his arms. To curl up on the ground around him and sleep until the seasons changed and he could no longer feel the exhaustion and hunger gnawing at his bones. For once in his life he wanted peace but he had begun to suspect months, perhaps years ago when he sat on a wooden floor alone and read bedtime stories to himself that he would never be able to truly rest.

Instead he shuffled haltingly to the shuttle, limbs weak and heavy as he went about the task of herding his children aboard, Kevin's hand clasped firmly in his own. Sooner than he expected the doors had closed and the pilot had signaled their departure. He could feel the engines warming and firing, the shuttle frame rocking slightly as it rose from the ground.

They rose higher and higher, the ground fading from beneath them as they took to the air. He could see the clouds out the window, the rolling carpet of green and brown that he knew to be the forest that had protected him and his children for so long.

Then with a shudder they broke through the atmosphere and his world was suffused with stars. For the third time in his life but only the second that he could remember he was in space. The stars called to him like never before, the vast coldness and stillness of space that stretched until the end of time appealed to him. He felt as if space could give birth to a new him, someone who was not a monster or the ghost of a hero given flesh. His free hand rose on its own, his dirty, blood stained palm spreading out across the glass of his window. Chipped nails and crooked fingers tried their hardest to grasp one of those twinkling lights and the movement rattled the chain that was still connected to his wrist.

The sight of it stopped him cold. He realized then, in that very moment just how much of a hold that planet had on him. He would never be free. He had always known that his actions and experiences would haunt him if he lived but the full extent of him crashed down on him at once. Even if he left the planet behind him, left Tarsus IV to rot in space like the beautiful hell that it was he would never truly be rid of it. Rage pulsed through him, rage at the audacity of that planet for daring to try and tether him, to bind him to it.

His fist clenched, jagged nails pressing deep into his skin before a soft sound at his side forced him to look down. His heart clenched at the sight of Kevin, dirty golden brown hair tangled around his neck and face as he tried to burrow himself deeper into J.T.'s side. Steel softened into artic water, still cold but more giving as he traced his gaze across Kevin's form for a moment before once again turning his eyes back towards the window.

He watched the twin moons orbit the planet, hanging there like gods or demons, watching all that had transpired below. The arm that had remained curled around Kevin tightened, drawing the sleeping boy closer to his side. Things were not as horrible as they had seemed before. _For if he must be chained, tethered to some other existence, could he find another that he found more worthy to hold his bonds as Kevin. For as much as the younger boy belonged to him, J.T. knew that if he possessed a soul Kevin held the majority of it in his hands._

He continued to watch the stars, to gaze at their captivating beauty as he raced forward away from Tarsus and ever closer to the _Farragut_. His shoulders slumped and his eyes slipped closed and somewhere between one breath and another his heart pumped out the final dose of chemicals and he knew no more.

* * *

**The Dark Angel's Heart**: Your review blew me away. I just want to say thank you so very much for such kind words! Oh and I also adore foxes so keep your eye out for that in the future as well, it could certainly make another appearance. =^.^= I promise that your issue will be addressed later on in the story and that Bones will indeed be at Jim's side in the future!

**Kya:** I know that his reactions were not as violent as some had hoped for and so I hope that I did not disappoint you.

**Meriarijim:** Your PM is disabled so I wanted to say thank you here and that I am glad you liked that line as much as I did.

**Betsuni Sasoko**: Sorry about Pike not showing up yet but he will appear eventually. Oh and Spitfire is an excellent song!

**Liane:** Your love makes my day! =^.^=

**Simal**: Oh yes I shall try my best to cover those things as I am sure you now know! *grins* Thank you very much for the compliments and the well wishing!

**Aordic**: I am honored that you connected so well with my story! Truly honored!

**W:** He will appear I promise you.

**Anonymous: **AHHFLH…that is the sound of **my** heart exploding over the sheer awesomeness that is your review! Seriously….that review had me grinning like a fool and practically babbling in sheer happiness.

**jason24:** I do plan to keep J.T. and his ownership alive though I am not yet sure in what capacity. Trust me though Starfleet will indeed be dealing with Jim as he is now. He will also be making steps at being a bit more human and you are pretty much spot on about his dealings with McCoy and his feelings about the _Maru_ test. I did so enjoy your observations!

**Mnemosyne: **Thank you very very much for the review**.**


	7. The Boy and the Wolves

AN: First, I would like to say, "Hello, my name is Ray and I am comma challenged!" I had a reviewer who expressed concerns about my comma usage (or lack there of) and I would like to say thank you to them for being honest. I would also like to promise that I shall try my best to improve!

I would also like to apologize for the lateness of this update… My mother's new husband has recently lost his six-month battle against an infection and passed away on August 18th. As such, I have not had the time to work on this like I wanted to. I hope that this update soothes any ruffled feathers.

For Bruce.

* * *

The Boy and the Wolves

* * *

J.T. was in hell and the devil was currently slow roasting him whole.

He could hear the roar of the fire; feel the flames licking at his soul, the glowing embers worming their way beneath his skin. They squirmed and bit at him, sending arcs of agony radiating through his very bones. He wanted to scream but this time he refused to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing his pain.

He tried to move, tried to flex his muscles and shift his limbs but his body refused to respond. He was desperate to move, desperate to regain control of himself. Mentally he struggled, trying to send messages to his muscles, trying to move everything, anything, an arm, a toe even. Suddenly there was pressure, bruising pressure on his limbs, and stinging in his neck before the world went silent once again.

He was drifting then, the flames receding and the embers falling silent beneath his skin. Cold seemed to be seeping into his very blood, eating away at the remnants of the fire that had been consuming him.

J.T. had felt the icy bite of the cold before, had felt the wind that tore at him, and the sleet that pummeled his frame, but this was different. This cold was something that he had never experienced before and he could not help but believe as he began to drift away, that this must be the coldness of space.

He wondered briefly who had made the decision to jettison his remains.

* * *

"Weakened…immune….."

"…infections…"

"…nothing…fix it."

"Vulcan…Captain…"

"Self-inflicted…."

He could hear the conversations taking place around him but not in their entirety. He simply got snippets, their meanings lost in the hazy fog that seemed to surround him, the almost cotton like feel of whatever it was keeping him down.

He could feel the people hovering over him, could hear the softly muffled beeping of a monitor of some fashion in the background, but his mind was fuzzy. The wolf was silent, pacing in its dark corner, muzzled by the medication and the weakness that caged it, but growing stronger every minute.

He could feel the bars loosening; the iron hold of his current fragility giving way to the unstoppable force that was his wolf, his instinct, his will. The light in the room burned his eyes when he finally managed to pry them open, the glare a harsh and unforgiving fire. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to slip back into unawareness, to drift in the coldness of space but the insistent snarling of the wolf would not allow him to accept such weakness in himself.

Instead, he forced his eyes to focus, to shake away the hazy film that covered his sight and to concentrate on his surroundings, a desperate attempt to figure out his location and situation as quickly as possible. He took in the stark white of the walls, the various pieces of medical equipment and the blue uniforms of those gathered in the room. He was confused. The last thing he remembered was hanging from those thrice-damned chains and trying frantically to plan an escape for his children. Beyond that, things were foggy, memories half written in a language that was foreign to him.

He grappled with it, trying his best to stay silent, to not give away his conscious state to those who were currently huddled in the opposite corner speaking in sentences sprinkled liberally with medical terms that he could not grasp at the moment. The puzzle within his own mind that he was trying desperately to unlock was beginning to frustrate him. All he wanted to do was figure things out and get back to his children, back to Kevin.

_Kevin…_

His memories hit him suddenly, with the force of a phaser discharge as the past day came rushing back to him. Rescue, traveling, reuniting with his children, Garrovick and their conversation, the shuttle ride, Kevin and staring out into the black. A swirl of colors and sounds, of memories and sensations assaulted him and vaguely he could hear a monitor above his head begin to go crazy.

He remembered everything.

There was a scrambling of feet, curses and cried out instructions, hands holding parts of him, the feel of others touching his body ripping weakened and yet still startling snarls from his throat. He could feel his heart going crazy in his chest, could feel its frantic beating and the surging of his lungs as he tried to assimilate all of the memories that were trying to rush in on him at once.

That same sting was in his neck again and suddenly the world felt calmer. He could feel his heart beginning to slow, his lungs no longer trying to lurch out of his chest. A bright pinpoint of light burned into his eyes as he brought them into focus once again to stare into the powder blue face of the Andorian doctor leaning over him.

"Nice to have you back with us. Do you remember your name?" The other males question was delivered in a tone that was supposed to be soothing. J.T. had never taken to being soothed particularly well so his only answer was a weak glare and an attempt at a curt nod. His weakened muscles only half cooperating with him.

The double antennae that adorned the males head twitched slightly before he straightened and continued to stare down at J.T.'s more prone than usual form. "Do you know where you are?"

J.T. did not know how they expected him to be immediately aware of his current position due to his extended period of unconsciousness that began on the shuttle. He was not however one to pass up a challenged and the sights around him made his next words a statement of fact forced through his dry throat.

"Medical Bay, _U.S.S. Farragut_."

The doctor stepped back and J.T. could tell even without extensive xenobiological studies that he had managed to annoy him. His lips twisted into the slight sneer that they tended to adopt when he was amused about something, which in itself was a rare occurrence.

The Andorian had not lasted anywhere near as long as Garrovick had in his presence.

A throat cleared in the background and J.T.'s eyes darted to focus on the very human he had just been thinking about. Clad in a fresh gold uniform Garrovick looked composed and refreshed, a stark contrast J.T. was sure to his own ragged and wild appearance.

The doctor snapped to attention at the sight of the captain along with the other occupants of the room. Garrovick approached the biobed that held J.T. cautiously, his desire to not startle the child apparent in his stance and mannerisms. Their eyes locked once again and underneath the cool composure and the commanding attitude, J.T. could see the exhaustion that lingered in the lines on his face, the stress of dealing with a starship and with genocide.

He could almost respect the man for being so poised, if he could find it in himself to give a fuck about respecting anyone again.

Though they continued to stare at each other, Garrovick addressed his questions to the hovering Andorian at his elbow.

"Status Doctor."

"Aside from malnutrition and a compromised immune system there is evidence of severe physical trauma. His body is littered with scars, many that we have been able to identify as whip marks and even a cauterized phaser blast wound. These are only a few; there are many that are just as…unsettling and unexplained." Garrovick cut the doctor's speech off with the raising of a single hand as he directed his voice back towards J.T. and wasted no time on getting down to business.

"You have been unconscious for two days. Your biological systems crashed and it was only because of the medical expertise of the good doctor and his staff that we managed to bring you back on-line at all. The other children are safe, currently under heavy guard in an isolated Observation room that has been outfitted for their needs. They refuse to speak to anyone except to ask after you. They will not answer questions and refuse all but most basic of interactions with my staff. While I am aware that you have just regained consciousness after a rather…strenuous ordeal, I need you to get them to speak with my crew and myself. Starfleet command needs the information they can provide since the other survivors knew next to nothing about the situation."

J.T.'s mind reeled for a moment as he took in the Captain's speech. He knew that the man would need answers, hell the entire known galaxy would need answers, but his wolf roared with renewed anger in the recesses of his mind at the thought of those ham-handed crewmembers forcefully questioning his children.

"You'll question me, not them." It ripped its way from his throat almost without thought, his desire to shelter his children bordering almost on obsession. _They would not be forced to relieve the horror of that planet, forced to go over the happenings repeatedly so that files and case studies could be produced. It was another way in which he could give of himself in order to save them._

The doctor made a sound of discontent and stepped forward once again. "Captain with all due respect I must protest. He is much too weak to undergo a retelling of the horror this poor child is sure to have experienced. Surely one of the older children would be better suited…"

J.T. forced himself upwards in his bed, fighting back the lingering weakness in order to hoist his body upright and snarl in the doctor's general direction. "You will question me! I'll rip your throat out if you so much as mention what happened down there to any one of them before they are ready."

The doctor backed off rapidly, his twitching antennae broadcasting his discomfort. Garrovick simply continued to stare at J.T. a slightly bemused expression adorning his face before he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"I can give you three days to rest and regain your strength but then we are going to be well within receiving range of Starfleet command and I will have no choice but to question you in order to gain some answers. Now before I go is there anything that I can tell the others, anything I can say that will calm them without having to march them each into this room one by one in order to see that you are indeed alive? They have become rather agitated, especially the small blonde one, with my medical staffs refusal to allow them out of their beds in order to investigate your whereabouts."

J.T. pondered that question for a moment. As much as he wanted to demand to be taken to them, demand that they be brought to him, he knew that at that moment it was not an option. They each needed to recover their strength and he himself would have to take this time to carefully align his thoughts to prepare for the inquisition he was sure to face. Suddenly though he knew what to say, knew the one thing that would calm them, would calm Kevin.

"Yes Captain there is. Tell them _rish-tor_."

Garrovick and the Andorian both reacted to the word and J.T. knew by the cool feel of the sheet against his bare skin that they had seen the same word carved into his very flesh. It was not strange that they would be startled to hear him use it as a means of comfort for his children. _For how could they understand it, understand a need so deep you would sacrifice your flesh, your blood for it. Would willingly take biting pain for no other purpose than to see words take form. They would never understand the comfort that such pain could bring._

Garrovick regained himself quickly though and with a nod exited the room and left J.T. to lower himself gingerly back down onto the bed.

He had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

J.T. is up in two days instead of three.

He takes that time in order to garner the strength to stagger from his bed and walk/stumble to the guarded wing that housed his children. The security officers that stood guard were at a loss as to what to do when confronted by the disheveled wild-child they had heard so much about, simply stepped aside, and allowed him access to the room. Garrovick had warned his crew to be delicate in their dealings with the survivors, particularly that large group of children.

The automatic doors swished open and he was greeted by the sight of a double row of closely packed beds, other equipment pushed back in order to make room for all of the occupants. It was obvious that the children had each refused to room alone.

His arrival caused heads to turn and the small spattering of conversation that had been taking place died a quick death. Instead, gasps and cries of his name rang through the now noisy room. Behind him, he heard the door open again and swung around to confront the two guards that now hovered anxiously in the opening, drawn in by the sudden outburst of noise.

"Get out." His voice was icy, his eyes shards of blue winter that sparked in the light like demonic fire.

They left.

His children are surrounding him by then, spilling out of their beds and gravitating around him like little moons around a planet. He is unsteady but the feel of their bodies pressed up against his own keeps him on his feet, keeps the weakness that still lingers in his system at bay. He would stand tall before them, would never falter, and never give them a reason to doubt his protection or his strength.

He would do his best to never fail them, not even in their minds.

They are touching him again as they had in the clearing just days ago, running their hands over any part of him they could reach, searching for reassurance of his state, his presence. They are desperate to know that he is real, that the words Garrovick had given them had really came from him and that now that he was there they had nothing to fear.

Kevin breaks through the crowd with ease, the other children naturally falling back to allow the small boy through, knowing just how important he was to J.T. They stare at each other for a moment, J.T. reaches out of his own accord and runs a hand lightly across Kevin's cheek and then the younger boy is in his arms, tears falling like rain drops. Something inside of J.T. seems to finally settle down now that his first child was back in his arms. ___He could protect Kevin there, could rip and tear at any who tried to take him, at any who would dare._

He stroked his hand over clean golden brown locks, looks down at that still too thin face and is barely able to keep himself from crushing the smaller male to his side and never letting go. Instead, he merely wraps his arm around the boys' shoulders and shuffles him deeper into his side before turning his attention back to the others.

They have questions, concerns that they have kept hidden until now, things they wished to know about their situation that J.T. had been unable to answer before. He takes his time with each of them, answers questions in his short and precise manner that has become a comfort to them all. He is starkly honest with them when it comes down to the questions the adults had begun to ask, reassures them all that they will never be forced to speak of Tarsus again unless they each wished it.

Some hours later the doors swing open again onto the silent room as the doctors and the nurses who had been attending the children entered for a routine check on their status. They are greeted by rows of empty beds, stripped of blankets and pillows, the children absent from their sight. They are confused, understandably upset at the seeming absence of their patients. It is not until one of the nurses, a young male with a shock of green hair, approaches the opposite wall in order to com the bridge that they find them.

Huddled on the floor, missing blankets and pillows forming some sort of misshapen nest, are the children. They are sprawled over each other, a heavy ball of tangled limbs and hair. The adults cannot help but to see them as more animal than human in their repose. There is a certain wildness evident in the way they each sought comfort from each other. They step forward, waking and moving the youths prominent in their thoughts but a low growl that echoed through the room but did not disturb the sleeping ones stopped them cold.

Directly in the middle of the ball, the focal point for the grasping limbs and seeking hands sat the one they knew only as J.T. He sat, back against the thick glass wall that separated him from space itself. Two days of being unconscious and two more of rest and sessions in the sonic shower has changed his appearance. He was no longer the blood covered youth, with tangled hair and chipped nails that had so startled the crew before. He is clean now, too blonde hair trailing down his neck to brush against his shoulders. Months without proper haircuts or hygiene giving him a wild and untamed look that had not been washed away with the dirt and blood. If anything, he looked more feral in some ways, as if the dirt and muck had distracted from the true ferocity of his appearance.

It was his eyes though that had caused such a stir within the crew. That ice blue gaze had pierced the landing party that had first encountered him, studied them, weighed them, and in many cases found them wanting. They were not the eyes of a child, a boy too young to know the true horrors of the world. Yet they each knew that he did and it showed in the frosty silence of his gaze and demeanor.

Those same eyes speared them now, dared them to wake the children, dared them to disrupt the first true rest those lost younglings had managed to obtain since the ordeal began. They each in turn had to work hard to repress a shiver, telling themselves that they did not fear a child, that the reason they backed out of the room silently one after the other was because they chose to.

They were not frightened of the feral boy with hell in his eyes.

J.T. relaxed just slightly, a telling and yet hardly noticeable tension leaving his muscles. He knew that the adults who had left were medical, knew that the _Farragut_ had brought safety and rescue with it and yet he could not dismiss his instincts so easily. The wolf still paced, still growled in the back of his mind at the thought of any approaching his pack that he had not previously approved of.

Sitting there, the cold glass against his back he lost himself in his thoughts, his memories and half-formed plans. Lost himself in the feel of skin and limbs pressed against him _how often had he ever touched or been touched before and during Tarsus without pain and blood following the moment? How often would he get the opportunity in the future?_ He allowed himself to enjoy the press of his children, to relish their clean skin and soft hair without holding himself back, without the fear of danger or pain sharpening his senses.

He knew that things would change; he had come to grips with that while still on Tarsus. He knew that on the morrow, when Garrovick came for him, things would be different afterwards. He would have to tell the man the truth, tell him what had happened. The wolf snarled, disliking the thought of having to reveal so much of himself to another, for there would be pieces of his blackened soul in the telling, he was too involved for it to be otherwise. Yet the logical part of J.T., the piece not ruled by animal and the wild knew that he would have to give answers, perhaps not entirely truthful ones, but answers nonetheless. There were people spread across the galaxy that needed to know what happened. Families that need to know that their sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters would never be coming home.

There were things about his children that would need to be documented as well he knew, and as much as the wolf snarled at him to deny the man the information, he knew he could not. They would need names and birth-dates on the children, would need these things to begin to try and track down any surviving family.

They would begin to work on slowly taking them away from him for he knew that in their eyes he was too young, too wild, too much an animal to be trusted with so many lives for much longer. Soon they would try and soon he would have to fight them to maintain what ever hold upon his pack that he could.

For now, though he wanted something for himself. For now, he wanted this piece of memory, this instance of tranquility with his children without fear and hunger hanging over them, without death stalking their every move. He wanted just this thing so that he could face all others.

* * *

Garrovick came for him in what would be late morning by the ships standards. His tall and commanding figure cutting a swath through the other crewmembers who had taken to loitering outside of Observation Deck C in order to gain a glimpse of the children who had survived and the feral boy who supposedly guarded them. It took almost an hour for J.T. to disentangle himself from his children and force his body to leave the room. He padded silently to the door, stopping once on his way to wake both Tom and E. who had wrapped themselves around each other in order for them to take the watch.

Old habits died the hardest.

When he was assured that the boys were alert and ready to react to any possible danger he followed Garrovick from the room, his steps almost as fluid and graceful as they had once been. They strode down the hall in silence, Garrovick nodding to the various crewmembers that stopped their work to snap off hasty salutes while J.T. gazed in stony disinterest at any who dared peer at him. Finally, they approached the Captain's ready room and entered, J.T. freezing slightly at the sight that greeted him.

He wanted to curse Garrovick, to damn the man to hell for not informing him about what he would be facing, but he managed to restrain himself. There on the holo-screen before him were the faces of six adults who J.T. could tell by their uniforms were ranked at Admiral.

The Starfleet Board of Command.

Garrovick stood at attention, his face stoic as he gazed at his commanding officers, waiting for permission to stand down and perform introductions. When it was granted, he stepped forward, one hand reaching out for J.T. but falling short at the younger boys soft snarl and narrowed eyes. There was an awkward pause before he cleared his throat and began.

"Board I would like to introduce you to the survivor who has volunteered to answer any and all questions, J.T. J.T. this is the Board of Command for Starfleet." J.T. stood silently appraising them as they appraised him, his head angled high, refusing to be cowed by the pitying and disapproving gazes of those before him.

"Captain." It is the one Garrovick had referred to as Archer that speaks first. "While I am in no way trying to down play what this young man has been through, would it not have been a better idea for you to have brought an adult to this meeting. We need rational answers about what went on down there and I do not believe this child is capable of giving them to us." It takes all of J.T.'s will power to withhold the snarl that is steadily building in his throat.

Garrovick glances at him nervously, the action raising the brows of the Admiralty at seeing one of their finest Captains so cautious around a mere child. "Sir with all due respect I believe that J.T. is the best one for what you need. The adults from the other group know next to nothing, and as for the older children, well let's just say it would be better to avoid being forced to ask them."

Barnett speaks up this time, his skepticism clear in his tone. "I, like Admiral Archer, am doubtful as to the fact that this boy can provide us with the necessary information. Surely there is someone who is better suited for the task."

J.T. steps forward then, flowing out of the shadow of Garrovick's side and facing the holo-screen with an icy countenance and eyes that damn near over flow with bitterness and rage. _They speak as if he is not there, as if his presence means nothing while they discuss badgering his children with questions he would never allow. He would kill first, would maim and wound any who tried before he broke his promise to them._

"Questioning the children is not an option. If it is information you desire then ask your questions to me."

The Board is startled he can tell, startled that a mere child has spoken so out of turn to them, that this wild looking little boy would dare to address them in such a manner.

"Son you need to calm down and let the adults talk. There are things that need to be discussed that you can not possibly be of any help with." It is Archer again and J.T. can see that Garrovick is growing increasingly nervous though he hides it well. The Captain is familiar enough now with J.T. to understand that things are not altogether right with the younger male. The Admiralty has no idea.

"Do you mean about how Kodos," the name is practically spit from his mouth, "ordered the death of four thousand innocent men, women, and children? Or perhaps how the worthy portion of the population did nothing as their neighbors and friends were murdered in the streets? How the city guard would hunt down children, beat young girls in the woods for information?" _Zafrina, oh god Zafrina how he missed her._"How it feels to watch as someone's life seeps out onto the rubble and ruin at your feet because you refused to let them slaughter a toddler? Yes if you mean these things then there is surely nothing I can tell you."

He turned then, intending to exit the room, willing to leave them in their stunned silence for the moment as the wolf raged within his mind at their ignorance. It is the shout of his name from Garrovick that stops him, the automatic door swishing shut behind him as he once again turned to face the Captain and the Board.

The other adults were silent, faces pale and jaws tight as they regarded him, finally looking beyond his age at the true person who rested just beneath the surface.

Barnett cleared his throat and spoke again, his words soft and pained.

"We're listening."

So J.T. began to talk.

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AN: So there we have it, the beginning of the next stage of J.T. and the packs life. I do hope that this chapter did not disappoint and I cannot wait to hear from everyone on the review board!


	8. Hansel and Gretel

AN: I know I have been away for far too long and while I do have a good excuse I will not waste anyone's time with it! Instead I would like to say that if anyone has not read the monetization of the 2009 movie they need to do so! It was great! Highly entertaining of course. Also in concern to this chapter I would like to apologize if it bores anyone. I had a lot of requests that I not skip over the conversation with the Board so here it is. Hopefully everyone will enjoy it!

As always thank you for being here.

Warnings: Same as always my friends.

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Hansel and Gretel

* * *

It is difficult at first. He does not really wish to speak to them, has no desire to let his story be known. Nonetheless he knows that he has no other choice; the children will not be forced to speak.

He will be their voice.

He knows that even though he has startled them with his words, with his brutal outpouring of truth, that they are not prepared. They think they know, think that the reports and the briefings have prepared them for whatever he would have to say but he knows the truth. What he is going to tell them is something that you can not be prepared for, something they will never be expecting.

He starts at the beginning.

"Tarsus was a good place in the beginning." J.T. knows that they are already aware of that but he finds that he needs to say it out loud, has to remind himself of that fact. If he doesn't he isn't sure he will be able to get through this without violence.

"The farms were profitable, the crops abundant. Then things began to change." He can still see it in his mind, like an old holo-vid that he had memorized long ago. _Marixia and Leo holding whispered conversations when they think he isn't paying attention, neither of them ever realizing that he always was. Watching as meals got smaller, portions thinner, while they smiled and tried to convince him that they would be alright._

"I found out later that a fungi had infected the soil and was destroying the crops before they could be harvested." He can see that this is news to them, that in the stress and chaos of trying to find survivors they had not yet managed to find real answers.

"Things went downhill rather quickly after that." He will not tell them specifics, won't share with them the true reality, the simple facts are enough for now. "Kodos issued orders to the town guards to slaughter roughly fifty-percent of the population in order to stretch the food stores further." He breathed deeply. The thought of that bastard made his teeth clench and his blood boil. "They started with the smaller homesteads and settlements, killing anyone who did not meet his idea of worthy. The settlement where I stayed was one of the first to be targeted. There was no warning." _Marixia, Leo, William, and Kathleen. All of them shot down like dogs in their own homes._

"No warning and yet you managed to make it out unharmed?" It is one of the other Admiral's, a woman by the name of Bennett.

"Unharmed?" J.T. is bitterly amused at that. For while no real physical damage had been inflicted upon him in those moments he knew that unharmed was the furthest thing from the truth when it came to him. _Seeing them laying on the ground, watching as the bullet bit through Marixia's skull had stained him in ways that would never fade._ "I suppose you could say that. "

"How did you manage that? Did your parents smuggle you pass the guards or did you hide until they had passed?" The questions force his eyes to narrow and he is growling almost silently. He can tell from the uneasy shifting of Garrovick at his side that the older male can hear it. _Parents. A simple word and yet one that he despised. He had no parents. He never had and now he never would. They didn't need to know that._

"I was in the woods that day, searching for herbs and other native plants to supplement our food stock. I heard the first screams from a distance. When I arrived Leo was bleeding out into the dirt and two guards were questioning Marixia about the number of occupants on the farm. I watched them from the tree line." He stopped then, not to catch his breath or to collect himself emotionally like he knew they believed. He stopped because even now after all these months he could still hear her voice in his head denying his existence like so many others had done in the past. _He had never felt a mother's love until that moment and even now he could remember the patterns her blood made in the dirt beneath her._

Garrovick's hand descends upon his shoulder and squeezes in what was supposed to be a comforting manner. J.T. shrugs it off and straightens his spine harshly. _He is not weak and he does not need pity from anyone. He refuses to accept it. He does not need to be coaxed gently forward like a frightened lamb. He is a wolf and he carries himself forward on his own strength._

"What happened after that son?" It is Archer again, his tone the soft octave one uses to question a crying child.

J.T. is no such thing.

Arctic blue eyes snap up and forward locking with those of the Admiral who had last addressed him, and an almost cruel smirk stretched out across J.T.'s face.

"They shot her, a single rifle round in the brain. They put her down like a dog, ransacked the house, and walked away." There are harshly drawn breaths at that, at his almost blasé nature and harsh phrasing. He knew that he was going to shock them. He really almost pitied them since he was barely getting started.

Barnett is a strong one he can tell, since he managed to keep his cool and ask the next question. "What did you do afterwards?"

"The only thing I could do." That smirk is still there because J.T. has realized early on that he gets an almost sick sense of glee out of fucking with their minds. He intends to take full advantage of it.

"You ran." It is a statement of fact from the other male. A conclusion that J.T. knew he would jump to and one he took great pleasure in crushing.

"I followed them. I shadowed their every movement until I found an opportunity. First one and then the other, I put them down like dogs." That memory he cherishes in someways. His revenge and their atonemnet for their sins is like his own personal lullaby.

"Are we suppose to believe that a mere child had the ability to take down two armed and trained adult guards? This is ridiculous!" Bennett is practically frothing at the mouth in her outrage and J.T. had not been so pleased in some time.

"Admiral Bennett! Contain yourself!" It is Archer this time and despite his words J.T. can tell he agrees. Bennett quieted and Archer nodded for J.T. to continue.

"I took their rifles and went after Kevin."

Barnett interrupted him then. "Who exactly is this Kevin?"

Garrovick stepped forward towards the input screen at that and after a few seconds a small picture of Kevin appeared on the screen. It had clearly been taken in the two days that J.T. had spent in bed recovering his strength. They worked at an impressive pace it seemed.

"Kevin Riley, approximately six years old. Exact d.o.b, home location and parents currently unknown. With all that has happened my communications department is still sorting through a rather large heap of data in order to get the specifics on the children. Besides names and basic ages they have all refused to speak extensively unless J.T. was present and since there is only one of him and considering his medical condition things have been progressing slowly. I have uploaded the names that we have listed along with pictures to your data pads." Garrovick was solemn and unapologetic, his people were doing the best that they could.

Barnett nodded sagely. "I understand Captain. Your crew is dealing with the situation in the only possible manner and is clearly a shining example of the best that Starfleet has to offer. Please son, continue."

A part of him almost wanted to refuse, if only to see the looks on their faces. "I ran to Kevin's but by the time I arrived his parents had already been beaten and were dying. I took care of the guards there, gathered Kevin and as much in the way of supplies as we could carry and left. I took him to a cave about a mile off from my homestead , dropped him off, started a fire, told him to stay, and I left again. When I got to the main town it was chaos, complete and utter anarchy." He remembered it all too well. _Screams and crying, the smell of burnt flesh and the faces of the dying and the dead staring up at him from their places on the street._

Archer interrupted him this time. "Tell us how you came to meet the other children if you do not mind."

Garrovick motioned for J.T. to step forward to the control panel. When he did he could clearly see a list of his children and the promised pictures. The wolf rumbled contentedly at the sight of them. Without being told what to do he began by pulling up the first file, a sweet faced girl with big green eyes and chocolate hair.

"I found Silvi first, nestled beneath the bodies of her parents." J.T. could hear the Board shifting uncomfortably in their chairs across the screen, could feel Garrovick stiffening beside him. These were the details that interested the Captain the most. He was very curious as to how their group came to be. J.T. shifted to the next picture. "I found Claire hiding in a garbage bin." The next picture. "Echo was trapped when his building caved in but I managed to get him out."

The cycle continued, going through each child and how he found them until at last he stopped at Tom. "Tom they had already tried to kill, but the guard who shot him…well I suppose his aim was off a bit. The whole side of his face was disfigured but he could walk so I took him."

"Were there no adults around? No grown ups from which you could have sought help?" Garrovick asked the question this time. It seemed as if his desire to have his earlier curiosity sated overrode his desire to remain purely professional in the face of his superiors.

He almost wanted to smile. "Oh there were adults alright, plenty of them. However the problem was they were either dead, dying, running for their lives, or the ones doing the killing. So while adults were present I would have to say that there was no one from which I might have procured help. As it was I was forced to use my pilfered rifles rather often."

"So once again you are expecting us to believe that you were able to kill an unknown number of trained military men with only two procured rifles?" Bennett seemed to be incapable of leaving those parts of the story alone.

"No." J.T. replied, smirk barely held in check.

"As I thought. Surely gentlemen we should speak to someone who can answer us truthfully and not a traumatized child." She was vehement in her desires.

"I was also in possession of a pair of extremely sharp knives." Truly he thought she was going to scream and as fun as it was to push her buttons he was beginning to grow tired of the game. "What I am telling you is reality. What you choose to believe otherwise is an illusion. Tell me Admiral would you truly see someone of my apparent age and stature as a threat to a military man?" J.T. knew the answer already, but the fun was in the asking.

"As I stated before, no I would not." Bennett's voice was stiff now, any pretense of maternal concern gone.

"That is precisely why they died. They were too arrogant to realize that just because one does not believe something to be a danger does not change the fact that it is. They saw a weak and helpless child instead of a potential enemy and they paid the ultimate price for it." J.T.'s voice was firm, any hint of playfulness that he had allowed himself was gone.

A throat cleared as the Captain once again inserted himself deeper into the conversation. "J.T. I believe it is safe to assume that the children you found are the same ones that we recovered from the cave and the cell. Would you please tell the Board a bit more about what went on after the initial incident? We know thanks to the adults who were rescued that this all began months ago. How did you survive such extensive martial law and harsh conditions?"

"I took them back to the cave, all of them. I herded them through the woods while chaos still reigned and hid them all with Kevin. I gathered supplies from my own homestead to add to the ones that I had gathered from Kevin's and the guards bodies. It was enough to last them for a while, longer than I expected, shorter than I had hoped for. I set up a perimeter, developed watches and codes, did rounds and taught them to be silent and stealthy. When the food ran out I found more, when a patrol passed too close or one of the children strayed and was captured I got them back. I did what they could not do, would not do to ensure their survival. I did what was necessary."

The adults were silent for a moment, mulling over the information that he had just presented to them; trying to cope with the implications of what he was saying. He knew that seeing someone they perceived as a child basically confess to what amounted to guerilla warfare was difficult. They had a hard time believing he was capable of murder; even Garrovick who was more than aware of his odd nature.

"In his initial briefing to us Captain Garrovick noted that a J.T., who we now know to be yourself, had informed him that his group had previously numbered at twenty-four. We have only a record of twenty-two survivors in your group with yourself included. What happened to these two lost members?" Admiral Holloway, a stately male with graying hair spoke up for the first time, his question stopping J.T. cold.

He had hoped he would be able to avoid those questions, had wanted to hold their deaths close and share them not. Now he would have to share them regardless. "There was indeed two others. The first was a female toddler whose name we did not know so we called her Ixia. There was an outbreak of fever amongst the smaller members of the pack and she was the first to become afflicted. I went out for medical supplies but I was not fast enough." His voice was harsh, the tone low and gravely with barely suppressed rage and bitterness. "She was dead by the time I returned."

"Where did you acquire this medication?" Holloway inquired.

"The closest township. I raided a private home and stole a first aid kit along with more supplies. I had to double back through the woods to lose the guards and by the time it was safe to return she was already gone." He blamed himself for that. _He should not have been so careless as to be seen, should have lost the guards quicker, ran faster. His inadequacies had killed the baby. He would never forgive himself for her loss._

"What about the other member of your group?" Holloway again.

"Her name was Zafrina. The same day that I went to retrieve medical supplies she was murdered by the guards who were pursuing me. When I returned to the cave I was informed that she had left in order to find me, that I was taking too long. By the time I tracked her down the guards already had her. She had managed to kill one and when I arrived I killed the other two but not before she was shot. She bleed out shortly after. She was sixteen." _He would carry her as well. Would forever feel the weight of her death upon his shoulders, would always remember the blood soaked hand upon his cheek. The weight of her body on his lap. She would haunt him._

They were silent again. An attempt at quiet out of respect for the dead, but there were so many of them and so little time. They pressed on.

"We are sorry for their loss, it is tragic and sickening that they were taken in such a way." It was back again, that slight trace of pity that he so despised. He refused to have it. They had been murdered, they deserved justice, not pity.

"Ask what else you need to know so that this can be finished." He was ice again. Cold, hard, unyielding. He wanted this over with, wanted the last questions asked and answered. Besides he already knew the story, he did not need an encore.

Bennett was back now, her eyes scanning the data pad before her as she asked her question. "It says here that you were recovered along with eight others from a cell in the main military stronghold. How did you come to be there?" Her eyes locked with his then, her gaze filled with interest. She wanted details.

Sometimes it seemed as if he lived to disappoint the fairer sex.

"One of the older boys left the cave without my permission while a small group of others and myself were out gathering wood. He was followed and unable to shake the tail. When he ran into my group we had no choice but to try and defend the area as allowing them to advance would have put the others in danger. Obviously we failed. We were captured and subsequently rescued and now I stand before you." He stared at her, gaze flat with loathing. "Is there anything else?"

She was annoyed. He could tell by the clenching of her jaw, the tightness of her mouth. A million little signs that he had learnt over the years. He annoyed her and he really didn't give a fuck.

Mouth pursed, she consulted her data pad and with a flick of her fingers abruptly sent an image to the view screen. There was pale flesh bisected by scars, tens of hundreds of scars. Some deep, some shallow. Some thick, some fine. It was ghastly. If she had been before him he would have happily locked his teeth around her throat and ridden out her death throes. The wolf could already imagine what her blood would taste like.

It was a picture of him.

"Would you kindly explain the origin of these?" Her voice was sickly sweet.

"Admiral Bennett I must protest! J.T. is a victim here, forcing him to relive his trauma in order to explain the situation to the Board is bad enough. Forcing him to relive it in such detail is cruel and unusual!" Garrovick was seriously risking a demotion if he continued his current line of speech.

"I find that I must agree with the Captain. Admiral Bennett what is the meaning of this?" Holloway had spoken again, his voice a soft tone underlain with pure steel.

"Gentlemen we have sat here and listened as this child told us fairy stories. Impossible tales about how he killed bad guys and saved the innocent. It is my belief that his account is simply the ramblings of a traumatized child. Clearly this boy has suffered a break from reality and his mind has concocted this tale in order to help him cope with his experiences. We need to stop this now and find a credible witness who can provide us with an accurate and coherent account. Perhaps Captain Garrovick could fetch one of the older children?"

J.T was going to kill her. Her insistent need to bring up questioning his children was literally going to be the death of her. Perhaps she had gone deaf though, perhaps she had not simply heard his refusal concerning them questioning the children. Garrovick clearly remembered as he was currently arguing with her.

"I am not deaf Captain Garrovick." No, J.T. thought. Not deaf after all, only chronically stupid. "I am aware that you do not believe questioning the others would be wise. However I am afraid that your word and the word of a child will not be enough to convince me of the fact."

A chime was heard then, before another word could be spoken. An alert sounded on the screen signaling a priority one message from within the ship. Garrovick apologized and with the permission of the Board patched the message through.

"Lieutenant I believe you were informed that I was not to be disturbed as I am currently in a meeting with the Board of Command." His voice was stern.

The other male cleared his throat nervously. "Yes sir. However you also informed the Communications Department to notify you if we discovered anything that seemed relevant to that special case you ordered researched. Well sir as we were backlogging through the security footage for the townships and for the main complex we stumbled across something relevant and we believe that you need to see it right away. Also sir the test results that you ordered have been completed and are waiting to be sent to you at your discretion."

"Thank you Lieutenant. Send the relevant file to the main screen and the test results to my personal padd." There was a series of beeps and chirps from the equipment and then the communications officer was gone and Garrovick was busy queuing up a video file. He spoke. "I requested that the Communications Department notify me of any information that might be related to our current conversation. Now I would like to warn the Board that I have not view these files as of yet thus I am unaware of their content."

"Continue Captain."

So he did.

It was obviously night, that much could be told from the images. The night vision cameras were of an older model, not as advanced as the models currently in use in the larger facilities. The picture however was still crystal clear. It showed a solitary male dressed in the regulation uniform of the town guards standing at ease in front of a building.

J.T. recognized it instantly and he realized what it was exactly that Garrovick's Communication Department had discovered.

Sure enough he saw himself flicker into the shot and out again, barely there long enough to see unless a person knew what they were looking for. He counted the minutes until he would appear again, this time with a much more revealing role.

It happened like lightening. Quick. Expected for him because he was aware of the storm but shocking for the others who had not heard the thunder. Brutal. The guard sighed deeply, shifted in place and then in the next second J.T. was behind him, knife sinking deep, blood blooming from the wound. The guard went down. He never moved again. J.T. watched with a sense of detachment. His wolf was pleased; reminiscing over an old kill was pleasurable but the other memories attached to that one were not. Memories of rejection and of birth. Memories of the voice leaving and the wolf rising from the ashes to take its place.

Endings and beginnings.

The vid-clip continued but J.T. had no desire to see the rest, he knew what he had done. Instead he took the time to analyze the faces around him. They were all shocked he could tell. Some contained it better than others but they each in turn experienced the same emotion. They were also vaguely appalled. The video showed conclusive proof that his story was reality and not the ramblings that Bennett was convinced about. They also showed just how efficient and comfortable he had become with killing and scavenging off the dead.

J.T. could not help but wonder if after seeing this video the Board would ever consent to letting him just walk away. Such an effective killer would prove of interest to them, of that he was more than aware. Inside of him the wolf snarled in denial, a refusal to be forever locked away, of being caged more than he was already. After playing the life or death game for so long he knew just what he was capable of if they took his freedom from him completely. Oh he knew that he would spend some time in a Federation approved facility but that was unavoidable. Anything past that and they would face an enemy they would never expect.

The silence that reigned was not the awkward kind. It was the silence that prevailed when words were inadequate, when speech could not express the right sentiment for the situation. J.T. decided to speak this time.

"I believe Admiral Bennett that this video would constitute the evidence that you so craved. Will you accept the truth now? Will you accept the ramblings of a traumatized child as an accurate account of the events that took place? Or do I need to go into further details? Do you want to hear what they did to me? About the drugs and chemicals, or the whip and other various torture methods that they employed? I assure you that I was awake and aware through all of them so I can provide an accurate statement." Spite laced his every word, his tone was acid and his eyes were ice.

The woman was pale like the others, composed and yet shaken he could tell. Truly they had each wanted to believe that she was right but when faced with the truth they could no longer deny it.

"N-No. No that will no longer be necessary. I believe you. Clearly your account of the happenings on Tarsus IV were as accurate as we could hope for. You have my apologies." Her voice was smooth now, low and calm in tone but without any inflection. Dead.

Satisfied he nodded his acceptance and once again turned his attention to Garrovick. The man was pale, even more so than he had been a moment before. His hands tightly clenched around his data padd, his eyes were riveted to the screen. Something was afoot. Barnett it seemed had noticed as well.

"Captain is something amiss? While the video was indeed shocking you seem to be focused on your data padd. Is there something that needs to be shared with the Board at this time?"

The captain's eyes turned to lock onto J.T. for a moment and he seemed to be searching for something within the other males icy gaze. Garrovick noticeably shook himself out of whatever trance he was in and straightened to face the Board once more. "In an effort to assist with the location of family members and the confirming of identities I had my Communications personnel actively compare the D.N.A samples obtained from each of the survivors to the computer records to see if there were any matches."

J.T. felt his blood turn to ice as realization crashed into him. He had been so focused on his children he had neglected to plan for this situation.

"Among the adults there were a handful of matches, mainly with those who had some sort of Federation employment history or in one case a discharged Starfleet officer." Garrovick's eyes darted back to J.T. once again. "Among the children however there was only one. Sentenced to a juvenile detention center for two years on counts of grand theft auto, vandalism, excessive speeding, and reckless endangerment. He served his sentence and was sent home. Records indicate genius level intelligence as well as some social misconduct. Son of Winona and George Kirk, one James Kirk. James Tiberius Kirk."

Garrovick looked up once again and this time his gaze was open as it landed on J.T. and there was a second of silence before the world around them exploded into chaos. The Board understood what Garrovick was saying, they too had made the connection between the file and the wolf child before them.

There were voices all around them. Yelling and loud demands for answers. Each of them wanting to know how this boy of all the children in the universe had ended up before them. How the son of a fallen hero had been allowed to run astray of law and end up in the hell hole that Tarsus IV had become? It would become a public relations nightmare if this got out. It could never get out. People would rail against Starfleet if it became known that the son of a beloved hero had been allowed to suffer in such a way.

He could even hear someone in the background speaking about notifying Winona.

J.T. chuckled quietly to himself in the midst of the upheaval as he silently slipped out the door. It would not be long before they noticed he was gone and mounted a search. It was a good thing then that he worked quickly for he had some supplies that he needed to procure and a ship to learn about. He melted into the shadows of an unused corridor and disappeared from view.

There would be time later to deal with the aftermath.

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AN: I would like to ask for some input on my very first poll on my profile. Input is appreciated. Also I would like to thank everyone who has come this far with me and I hope that you stick around for the rest of the ride.


	9. The Brave Tin Soldier

AN: Wow! We have hit over 500 reviews! I never expected this to happen! I would really like to thank everyone who has followed this story since the beginning and everyone else who has joined us over time. I would also like to say that I grateful for all of the bedtime story suggestions and I hope that they keep coming!

In regards to the poll that I had posted on my profile about time skips in the story, I would like to announce that it is now closed. The winner is the "small time-skips" choice which I am happy to say I have no problem following.

I really do hope that you guys stick with me and enjoy this next chapter.

Disclaimer: If I owned it...well let's just say that the relationship between Jim and Spock would not have been restricted to sub-text.

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The Brave Tin Soldier

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"Patient code T-Four-zero-zero-J-T-one point nine, computer acknowledge."

"Patient code acknowledged Doctor, shall I begin to record the session now?"

"Yes."

"Beginning record."

J.T. stared forward silently, projecting an air of unconcerned boredom but inwardly he was fuming, calculating, remembering. He hated being referred to as a number. He was growing used to it though, used to being nothing more than a subject, a study for these people and their files. In reality he had spent his life as something of an even lesser value to the adults he had been in contact with. It was his ninth session and he had known since the first that he had been lied to.

They had told him it would help, that the sessions would allow him to gain closure and to cope in a healthy way. It was mandatory for all of the survivors they had said. Necessary so that they could heal and move on.

Bullshit.

J.T. knew that you did not truly heal from something like Tarsus. He had long figured out that the planet would always hold a piece of him. That its claws had been sunk too deep to ever really let go. He had laughed harshly in their faces when they had informed him of his scheduled therapy sessions and had refused to go.

The officials of the facility he was currently in had told him in clipped words that his attendance was mandatory. If he refused there would be consequences; he would no longer be allowed unrestricted and unsupervised access to Kevin and the others.

He had cursed them but had eventually backed down. Backed down but not given up. They had him cornered at the moment, leashed by the threat to his time with the others. His hands were tied, circumstances no longer allowing him to kill those who threatened him and all that belonged to him. Besides he now had so few of them left that he refused to have what time he had with them marred by his struggle against the officials. He was being forced to adapt accordingly so as not to be destroyed.

He had many talents and luckily for him adaptation was one of them.

"J.T. you know the rules. You actually have to talk to me for this to be effective." Dr. Monroe stated. He never said he was going to make this easy. They had told him he had to show up, they never said he was actually required to speak. They really needed to learn to be more specific.

"I know these past few months on Starbase 3 have been hard on you J.T., and having to face being separated from the other children is difficult. You know though that the only reason the other survivors have gotten to go home is because these therapy sessions worked. If you want to get out of here you need to talk with me." The woman's voice was calm and soothing, years of training and experience softening her tone instead of actual concern.

He knew how they used the therapy sessions, knew that once the others had been deemed safe they had been released. Of course there had been extended stays in the hospital wing of the facility for each of them. Weeks spent rebuilding the damage done to their bodies in the months on Tarsus. It was amazing how quickly they had managed to reverse most of the damage done in those months in hell.

In many ways he was grateful for the advancements in medical science. He was happy in his own way that his children's suffering would not continue through extended physical healing. Sometimes though it sickened J.T. to think that they had managed to erase Tarsus from the bodies of its victims with so little effort.

Then he would look down at his own body, would trace calloused fingertips over scars and sections of missing flesh and he would be truly grateful. He had always wanted to carry the scars, the memories of things that had happened. None of them would ever forget Tarsus; they would never truly be free of the horror. It was a form of comfort to him to look upon his own form and to realize that for all the pain he had been unable to protect them from he had managed to spare them this.

Only his form would be littered with the scars of battle, riddled with physical reminders of the sickness of humanity. They would never look upon themselves and see a road-map of pain and anguish, of murder and hate. He had managed to protect them from that, from looking in the mirror one day and realizing they were a monster. He had been so very young in age when he had that realization beaten forcefully into his own mind. He was proud to be able to spare them from that.

The wolf howled and paced within his mind at his memories _scars were proof, badges of honor and pride that showed all others your abilities and your strength. There was no shame in wounds that had already healed, only in those you knew never would._

Shortly after they had been released from complete medical rest they had begun the therapy. They used it to probe out which of the survivors where fit to be reintegrated into every day life, and which ones needed a more extensive stay.

J.T. and his pack were kept separate from the other survivors, sectioned off from the main hustle and bustle of the base. This had been done to allow the children a better environment to learn to cope with the tragedy was what they had told him. J.T. knew it was to protect the other inhabitants from himself and to keep the possibility of an intelligence leak concerning his identity low.

It worked out fine for him. He had a data padd, a few other things he had procured on the _Farragut,_ and the layout of the facility memorized. The wolf within was as pleased with the arrangements as it possibly could be under the circumstances. He had believed that he would be able to protect his pack if something were to happen since he had them all together with him. _For he would fight for them still, would battle these people as well in order to protect his children, his pack. The cost to himself did not matter, had never mattered. That would never change._

The doctor's droning voice reached his ears once again. He let the woman's words wash over him and through him, listening as he always did to his surroundings but not really paying her special attention.

"It really is for the best. Even though I know you might not understand right now but when you get older you will. Starfleet only wants what is best for you, we only want you to heal. I know that the initial separations have been difficult but time will heal that wound. You'll see that everyone is better off where they are now, they are free to start their lives fresh."

She was reaching, trying to find something to peak his interest, something to force him to respond. She had tried everything she could think of. Questions about his life before Tarsus, friends, family, school. She was working blind where his history was concerned since Starfleet had place his identity at a security level far above her own. She was however, more than aware of his relationship with the other children and she sought to use it against him, to use it to force him to speak.

She had yet to succeeded.

The wolf within him still growled at the memories he was examining, roaring within his head in denial and rage. He had lost many of his pack to these people. The first had been Silvi, the sweet faced child who was officially the youngest of his pack since Ixia's passing. Things had stared out alright, the packs quarters were together and comfortable. He had been off down a side hall, gathering some of the younger children from their place by an observation window when it had happened.

Screams had echoed across the halls, their sound ripping through him, bringing him dashing through the corridors of the base and back to the common room. He had barely even paused to take in the situation before he had launched himself forward. Limbs striking out in every direction and a cleverly concealed home-made blade coming quickly into play, he was vicious.

He had not killed but he had wounded, severely. It was only the close proximity of the sickbay and the quick thinking of the base crew that had saved the men. He had stood there staring at their wounded forms, once again bloody, his pack huddled behind him and Silvi nestled crying in his arms. The wolf had raged _they had tried to take her, had tried to take what was not theirs and for that they had paid in blood and pain and he would give them more if it was necessary._

He had shuffled his children backwards, placing them in the rooms corner, the feel of Kevin's hands clenched in the back of his shirt a comfort. He had handed Silvi over to Taranas and had crouched, animalistic and prepared for the next wave, Tom and E. ready, willing, and loyal by his side.

They had retreated after that, the adults carrying off their wounded and backing out of the room quickly and quietly. It was days before anything else happened, days before J.T. had been awakened by the frantic shouting of Claire. Once again he had reacted quickly only to find out he had been too late.

They had taken her during the sleep cycle, somehow managing to take Silvi away without Tom and E., who were on watch that night, being alerted. The wolf raged strongly within his mind that day and for many days afterward but it had only been the beginning. He had been informed a few days later that as the youngest Silvi had been one of the least affected. As such she had been deemed healthy enough to be given over to the surviving family she had left, an aunt and uncle on her mother's side.

After that they started disappearing, taken sometimes alone and other times in pairs when it was least expected. There was no pattern that J.T. could figure out, no set method to the abductions. He tried to keep them together, to protect them and keep them but he was not successful. He raged and threatened, swore violence and delivered but it was for naught. He would attack and wound them, they would retreat and steal his children away. He had known that his pack would be separated but the actual act affected him deeper than he had thought possible.

After so long playing the animal it was hard for him to play the man. Hard to suppress the instincts that had kept himself and his pack alive for so very long.

Eventually he managed to calm the rage he felt, to push it to the back of his mind. The wolf paced restlessly _he wanted to rip, tear, shred them like the nothing they were because they took and took and eventually he would have nothing left. The emptiness would be unbearable for who was he without them._

They threatened to sedate him if the attacks did not stop, he promised to be merciless if they did. Finally though they managed to reach a compromise. If the attacks were halted they would not sedate him for the amount of time it took to remove all of his children. He would allow the children to be taken peacefully and they would no longer steal them from him, they would tell him before it happened. They would give the others a chance to say goodbye. It was not what he truly wanted _he wanted them to bleed and die, for his children to remain his always and to kill any who said otherwise _but the rational part of his mind managed to assert itself and he knew that it was what he must do.

He was strong again, they had made sure of that, and he was vicious, his life had made sure of that. He was a product of his upbringing, a weapon crafted by blind hate and neglect. Only space surrounded him, his inability to run further than the walls stretched limiting his options in a way he was not used to. He did not have the advantages that he had before so he was forced to concede. He would not give up, would never truly give up, _no-win situations did not exist_, but he knew when it was smart to back down, to bide his time and wait.

After a few weeks there were only a handful of his pack left. Taranas, Kevin, and the others who had been chained with him at Kodos's facility were all that he had left now, and even they would soon be leaving him. He kept tabs on the others, had memorized addresses and communication information for each of them. They had been taken but he would never give them up completely.

True to its nature the wolf snarled and paced, angry and in denial at what he and it both knew would be happening soon. That was the real reason for his presence in the therapist's office today, so that she could get a handle on him, could see how he was truly being affected.

"J.T. I know it is hard to talk but with the last of your group leaving soon you really need to open up to me. We have had eight sessions before this one and not once have you spoken to me. You are almost fourteen years old, but you are still a child. You need to realize that you can not handle everything on your own."

He had almost forgotten how old he was, only his inability to turn off his mind and stop thinking had saved him from that. He had spent almost six months protecting his pack, a half a year spent making himself into an even bigger monster so that he could fight theirs. Then he had been stuck here for months, feeling as if he were rotting away in so many ways on Starbase 3. He would be fourteen in a handful of weeks and already he felt as if his life was ending.

"I know what you've been through. I know what happened to you and it's alright to be upset. I understand."

The wolf roared, a sound of rage that J.T. was so very familiar with and yet never failed to set his teeth on edge and his hair standing on end. _This bitch claimed understanding, thinking that the false empathy would win him over. It enraged him instead. She knew nothing, was nothing, could never understand what he had done, what had been done to his pack, his children. She would never understand what he himself had become._

For the first time J.T. spoke, his voice cutting harshly across the room and stilling the therapist in an instance. She had found his trigger.

"You know nothing. You will never know. You don't know what it feels like to truly kill. You don't know what it tastes like. How slick their blood feels as it fills your throat and your hands, threatening to drown everything you are and ever will be in their filth. You've never pulled men off of young girls to stop them from raping them. Never killed with nothing between you and your victim but the blade of your knife. Where the only thing reminding you that it is real is the harsh sobbing of the children and the feel of your teeth lodged in his throat. You've never had to look into the faces of your children and realize that they were starving to death, that unless you kill again they won't eat. Never entertained thoughts of cannibalism to keep them alive. You will never understand and the very idea of you pretending to do so is insulting."

To her credit the therapist didn't flinch, her training and determination to keep her professionalism keeping her calm. J.T. did notice however that like so many others she had a tendency to stare over his shoulder when she spoke to him instead of looking into his eyes. Even with all of her training it was an impulse that she was unable to overcome.

"You're children J.T.? You do realize that they are not actually your children right? Do you understand that you are only a child yourself?" She was projecting calm with every fiber of her being.

"They are my children Doctor. I stole them from death. I took them from those that would have killed them. I killed others to keep them alive. In every sense of the word they are my children. Do you understand that Doctor?" He on the other hand was projecting venom and loathing with every ounce of his.

"J.T. I understand that you are hostile right now, that you feel like you can't trust anyone. Yet you must understand that we are here for you. We only want what is best for you. You just have to reach out and trust us."

"Here for me? You're here for me? Do not think to offer me false companionship when we both know you do not mean it! Lies will get you nowhere." There was more he wanted to say, so much more he could have said, could have raged about, but he stopped himself. He would not give in to her machinations anymore than he already had. She had not earned the right to all of his secrets.

He was finding it harder to believe everyday that anyone ever would.

She was still speaking, her voice now unimportant background noise to him. He had no use for her or her questions and false words. His actions controlled and his rage carefully banked he rose fluidly from his chair and without another word left the room.

He had put up with enough mental prodding for the day.

He had more important things to do with his time. Soon, he knew with certainty, they would be sending the rest onward and away from him. Soon he would have lost his last connection with humanity and he was not sure if he would remain even remotely sane through the separation.

For how could they expect him to be a man when they were the ones who were making the mistake of separating a monster from its heart.

_Kevin._

Then there was the matter of the wolf and how it would handle the separation.

It was so much more active now in some ways than it had been before. On Tarsus it had helped him, taught him things. Taught him how to protect and to fight, to wound and to kill, faster and more effectively than ever before. Now it was throwing itself against the confines of his mind, slamming itself against the iron bars of his control. It seemed to be constantly seeking something, _someone_ who could fulfill its desires.

He was not even sure as to what it really wanted anymore, it was just that never ending feeling of searching.

Quietly he wandered through the halls, his senses alert but his mind drifting from thought to thought. Sometimes he had so many that he felt as if his head would explode. Soon though he arrived at his destination, hand flying carelessly over the keypad as he enter the code. He was greeted by the sounds of laughter and voices flowing around the room. It soothed him to know that everything was as he had left it.

Absently he noticed Kevin speeding haphazardly across the room, the conversations halting as welcoming cries of his name reached his ears. His body reacted naturally, stepping forward to met Kevin's head long rush, rocking back on his heels to absorb the blow of his child's body colliding with his own. His upper body curling inwards around the boy, protective and strong.

They held each other tightly, even such a short period of separation making the younger of the two nervous and the older much more out of sorts than usual. J.T. buried his nose in Kevin's hair, inhaling his scent with all of his might. They would be separated, forced apart very soon and he wanted to savor these moments while he could. Kevin, he knew, would mourn their separation but he was young and so very innocent. J.T. had killed to keep him that way. His pup would be sad and unhappy for a while but he possessed too much light within him to remain so for very long.

Besides J.T. knew that even if they were separated now they would not be so forever. Kevin need to know that as well as the others. There were things that needed to be said, to be admitted in case the opportunity did not arrive in the future. Before he had made sure to have these types of conversations with the children who would soon be leaving one at a time. Though none of them had been as in-depth as this conversation would have to be. His own discomfort would have to be pushed aside. _For them anything. _

Gently he gathered the smaller boy up in his arms and strode forward to the circle of pallets that the remnants of his pack were occupying, still after all of this time refusing to sleep alone in their respective beds. Taking his place upon the one that offered the best view of the room he settled Kevin in his lap and regarded the others with stern eyes.

"Very soon they will send you away from me." His hand rose to still the cries of denial his children voiced. "You will go to the relatives you each have that have been deemed appropriate for you to live with. I will be remaining here for some time." He knew that was true, even if Winona was willing to take him in again Starfleet was far from allowing him to be released.

"I-I don't want to go...J.T...I-I want to stay with you." It was Kevin, voice shaking and broken by the sobs he was now bravely trying to conceal in J.T.'s shirt front. It was not working. The others were all in agreement, their eyes moist with the tears they were more successful in holding back. J.T. carded a gentle hand through the boy's soft hair and smiled that same twisted smile he always had.

"I would like nothing more than for that to become reality but it is not to be. I told you all once that you were mine. I meant it then and I mean it still. I know where they sent the others, I have the addresses and com numbers. There is no distance or force bar death that can keep me from you. No matter where you go, no matter how far apart we may be, no matter how long it will take me, if you need me, call and I will come." He was adamant in his speech, that same comforting strength and determination coating each word.

"I don't understand why they think they have to separate us like this. Haven't we been through enough by know for them to believe us when we tell them what we want. We don't want to go anywhere else. Our home is together with you." It was Tom, his hand entwined tightly with E.'s, a natural sight since the two had bonded deeply while in the cave.

J.T. ran his eyes over the two boys, taking in Tom's almost protective seating just a bit in front of E.'s, the tight grip the two had on each others hands. Tom, even though he was younger, was clearly the dominant party, doing his best to comfort and protect the quiet and more submissive E. Their bond was clearly strong. They were afraid of leaving not only J.T. but of leaving each other.

"I promised you once that I would protect you and I intend to keep that promise. Even if I must protect you from myself. They believe you would be safe away from me, that our attachment is unhealthy in many ways." It was difficult for him to speak about this, to open himself up in such a way to so many at once, even if they were his children. "I am not right inside. Deep down you know that it's true." To admit it out loud was almost painful, to say it to his children, excruciating. "I'm not healthy for you, not like this, not now, but in time things will change."

The wolf cried out in anger at him, his own mind fighting between his desires and the truth. The primal and destructive forces within him wanted to keep his children with him always. Yet he knew that it would not be so, could not be so, and therefore he needed to free them as much as possible without abandoning them completely.

Kevin's arms tightened around him desperately as the other children stared at J.T., denial and pain apparent on their faces. J.T. could feel his own heart, the one he had long ago decided did not exist, clench at their expressions and could not resist his next words.

"You will never truly lose me. You will always be my children, my pack. When this is over, when I do get out of here I will come to you, each of you, so that you know you will never be alone." He hugged Kevin back, his arms tightening slightly before relaxing and within the next second he was surrounded. His few remaining children came at him from all sides. Tom and E. slipping together as one underneath his right arm. Eames and Taranas under his left while Echo and the others crowded around his front, knowing better than to jostle Kevin and yet desperate to have contact with him.

Somehow they all managed to fit, balling together in that tangle of limbs and bodies they had always found comforting. J.T. swallowed hard, his eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling as his head fell backwards to clank against the wall. He had them now, for this moment they were all together and yet it was bittersweet since he knew it would not last. He never intended to fully let them go, he would do all in his power to keep contact with them, just like the ones who had already been sent away.

He would carry each of them within himself until death stole him from the world, would carry them beyond that if possible. At the same time he knew that he could not really keep them, not here, not in this place, not as he was. That would change in time, he would make sure of it. It might not be possible for him to be normal by others standards but he would be able to provide his pack with protection and care. He would keep his promise to them, would find them when he was free again. Until then he would simply have to beat back his own desires and do for them what he knew was best. He would have to trust that he had taught them enough about survival by now to make it without him.

* * *

It was happening.

He had rebelled against it, raged against it, denied it, and then finally grudging accepted it. Finally it was here.

The last of his pack, his children were leaving. Kevin was leaving. After this he would truly be alone now, for the first time in his life. No voice, no pack, only the wolf to keep him company and it was rebelling against him as well. He was losing his grip on everything.

He hated it.

He was standing in the shuttle dock of Starbase 3, trying his hardest to stay calm, to not attack the uniformed officers that littered the area like mice or locust. His right hand was clutching Kevin's and his left was engulfed in Tom's firm grip. E. was as always attached to Tom and attached to Kevin on the other side was Eames, the rest of the children huddled close to them as well, their hands stretched out and making constant contact with J.T.'s back and shoulders.

Dr. Monroe approached them slowly, her movements confident and yet cautious. Tales of J.T.'s violent reactions to the children leaving had become legendary on the base and she was not willing to take chances.

"J.T. it's time now. I can give you a few more moments but then I am afraid the children will have to be on their way in order to make their departure times." Her voice was soft, coaxing, that gentle tone one used to calm animals, the one he had become so used to hearing when adults talked to him.

There was a chorus of not so muffled sobs at her announcement, his children who had remained so very strong unable to hold back their sorrow. This was real to them now, the reality of their separation hitting them hard and fast. There was no going back.

Letting go of the hands he had grasped J.T. turned, moving forward in a fluid movement and engulfing Taranas in his arms. He hugged the boy tightly, his arms strong bands around the older male as the dark skinned youth cried raggedly within his embrace. He whispered words of comfort into his ears. "You are strong Taranas. You will endure until I find you once again and beyond that." Then he softly stroked his cheek and released him. The other male continued to sob but it was softer than before, less raw pain resounding in his voice.

He moved on to the next child and then the next, doing the same for each and every one. He reaffirmed his promise and tried to comfort them in the best way he knew how. Echo surprised him with his energy, the usually mellow male almost explosive in his grief. He moved onto Tom, clasping him a bit longer than the others, his hand coming up to briefly caress the damaged side of his face. E. was silent in his sorrow, tears falling rapidly and his arms almost bruising in his embrace but he went without complaint into Tom's arms when J.T. released him.

Then there was only one left and he dreaded it more than all of the others.

He went down onto his knees in front of Kevin, his eyes connecting and holding with those of his first and most precious child. Tears were cascading down his face, accompanied by the most heartbreaking sobs J.T. had ever heard. Kevin launched himself forward and wrapped his arms tightly around J.T.'s neck, burying his face in the exposed skin. It was all he could do to keep from breaking down as well.

"I have never cared for anyone until I met you Kevin. You kept me sane, kept me alive. I will always find you, always come for you. No matter what." His voice was chocked, filled with more emotion than had ever been present before.

"I don't want to leave you J.T.!" Kevin cried out loudly, unable to contain himself and not willing to try.

"I don't want you to go Kevin but you must. Go and be happy, survive and flourish. You are strong and you can do anything, be anything. I will always be proud of you Kevin, always."

"_Rish-tor_ J.T., _rish-tor._" Kevin's sweet voice was strangled and rough. The words pierced J.T. deeply, yet another reminder of what he had lost, of what had been ripped away from him so cruelly. Of how he had been rejected. Yet he said nothing, knowing that Kevin was comforted as always by the words. He would do nothing to make this moment more painful than it already was.

"_Nam-tor karik_ Kevin. I will find you." He hugged him one last time before rising, his hands cupping his boy's cheeks as he committed everything about him to memory.

"I love you J.T., really I do." Kevin's voice was earnest and it struck J.T. deeply. Zafrina was the only other person who had ever told him they loved him.

He wanted to say it back, wanted to tell Kevin he loved him back but something stopped him. He could not say the words even though he was sure he felt the same. Instead he hugged the boy to him tightly once again, kissed his cheek and forced himself to release him. Kevin smiled up at him, sadness in his eyes but determination in the set of his jaw.

It was over after that, the children were hustled away from him and onto the shuttles as J.T. gazed on. He ignored Dr. Monroe's silent stare as he watched his children being taken further and further away from him. Then when he could no longer see them, when the crafts were completely out of his sight he turned and left the viewing area silently.

He moved down the hall, his pace starting slow but quickly rising, getting faster and faster until he was running full tilt through the corridors. His heart was beating until he thought it would burst through his chest, there was a peculiar prickling sensation in his eyes, and his throat was tight.

He slammed his way through the door to the common room where he and his children had stayed, quickly turning to input a code in the security panel. The door locked with a nearly silent hiss. His breathing was harsh as he stared around with unseeing eyes. The room had been a haven at one time, a place of peace and contentment. Now it was a prison, haunted by the after images of his children, the echoes of the laughter that was no longer there.

Everywhere he looked, he could see them, hear them, feel them reaching out to him. He reached back but his hand closed around empty air. It hung there for a moment, his face crumpled in an unfamiliar expression of grief and confusion. For just a moment none of it seemed real and he thought that if he just closed his eyes and tried again they would all be there waiting for him.

It did not work and it was as if something within him snapped. The wolf within him raged forward, breaking through the bars that had always held it back and ripping its way to the forefront of his mind. He exploded into action. Roaring he launched himself forward, slamming his fist into the mirror that hung upon the wall. He didn't even flinch as the glass shattered outwards and nicked his face and arms.

He was moving again in the next second, upending tables and chairs, throwing anything he could get his hands on. He was a whirlwind of destruction. _It all needed to be in shambles, to be destroyed so that it matched the way he felt inside at that moment._ He screamed a primal sound that was barely human as he carried on with his mission of destruction.

Finally though he could do no more damage, there was nothing left to destroy, nothing left to shatter or break. Exhausted, face wet with blood and stinging with salt he collapsed in the middle of the floor. He ignored the sharp pricks of glass and twisted metal that bit into the skin of his back. It was a small pain, nothing to really be concerned about. It was far less serious than the staggering pain he felt in his heart.

He was panting by then, lungs barely able to draw the air they needed to sustain him.

They were gone.

He was alone now. The wolf was roaring in his head _it felt their lose as well, felt the biting loneliness that threatened to eat away at his mind and soul._

He had promises to fulfil, things he had to do. He had promised them all he would find them that if they were strong for him they would one day be reunited.

He just wasn't sure if he would be able to survive that long.

* * *

AN: So as always please leave a review and tell me what you think or ask questions on what may be unclear. Thank you again for sticking with me! Happy Holidays to everyone!


	10. Pinocchio

**Mandatory Big Ol' AN**: I must say that I was absolutely astounded by the amount of reviews the last chapter received. You all had some wonderful things to say and I can not wait to hear your opinions on this chapter. I really do want to apologize for the lateness of this update. Between working on some of my original stories and filling out paperwork to enroll in online courses I have been extremely busy. I hope you all can forgive me!

Also I received a lovely piece of fanart for this story and I would like you all to show the wonderful Night Flame Miko some love. The link is up on my profile.

There is also the matter of the youtube video "Monster" by Atlanta23410 that has really helped me work on this story. I just get such wonderful ideas for Bedtime Stories every time I watch it!

As always I will be more than happy to answer any questions or concerns to the best of my ability or just talk to anyone who wants to review or send me a pm. On a related note if you review and would like a reply please make sure that your private messages are enabled. So once again thank you for sticking with me and I hope that everyone enjoys.

Disclaimer: If I owned it...well let's just say that the relationship between Jim and Spock would not have been restricted to sub-text.

* * *

Pinocchio

* * *

J.T. was many things, monster and human, wolf, and man, but he had never been a fool.

They were watching him.

He had known they would be. Had known their eyes were trained on him as he had torn down that hallway filled with desperation and grief. Known even as the rage had overtaken him and he had laid waste to the room he had briefly, in the darkest pits of his being, called home.

They'd been watching him since the very beginning. Studying him. Categorizing his every move. So he had done what he did best. Planned, plotted, deceived.

Survived.

He had been selective in what he had shown the world, about what he had allowed the cameras around the base to record. J.T. had been sure to give them a contradictory mix of actions and emotions. He had been careful to give them enough of both sides so that he would have plenty to build on in the future. He'd allowed himself to be feral and cruel, attacking those who threatened his pack and the status quo. He'd also allowed himself to be kind, allowed them to see him interacting with his children, allowed them to see the glimpses of what they thought was a child beneath a feral mask.

They could not have been more wrong.

They did not know, refused to allow themselves to believe, the truth. That the emotions and actions he accidentally let slip were the falsehood. The true J.T. was hidden in the open; a careful sleight of hand so that what they saw as an illusion was the reality and what they believed to be the truth was actually a mask.

He had raged after the separation, allowing himself the release of anger for that single day before he had shaken himself out of it. He had to suppress the desire to let it continue, to embrace the anger and suckle it on his soul. It had been difficult to box away that rage, to shackle it in the recesses of his mind and not allow it free reign. The next day had been filled with silent contemplation and steady pacing, the small nicks and cuts across his body giving him the edge he needed to truly focus.

The desire had raged through him then, the wolf in its insanity whispering vile promises in his ear. _Their blood would be fresh, sweet and warm if he killed them, punished them for taking what was his. Those eyes that watched should be blinded, ripped bleeding from their skulls so that never again could they study him, judge him._ He'd pushed it back, winning a battle over the wolf but not the war. It rippled beneath his skin like a live thing till he swore sometimes he could feel it move.

Sometimes he was barely able to ignore the hunger it invoked in him.

Being forced to face the reality of life without his pack was difficult but J.T. managed. He had plans, promises to keep and people who he would die before disappointing. Instead he used his time wisely. He slowly began to change his outward persona, began using his mandatory sessions with Dr. Monroe to his advantage. It was difficult and railed against the majority of his nature but that sly, cunning part of him that had always helped him survive knew that it was necessary. He started speaking to her, not about anything important but rather about trivial matters around the base. A word here, a sentence there. Bread crumbs to lead the situation down a path of his own making.

J.T. was quick to realize the affect his slow _improvement _had on the therapist. When he began to supposedly open up to her he could see the relief on her face, the loosening of lines around her eyes. The subtle relaxation and smugness of someone who had managed to solve the unsolvable. Not to say that he wasn't still guarded and watched, Starfleet command was not comprised totally of fools. He had shown himself to them, made sure they knew what he was and what he could do, and so they were understandably wary of him. Still they allowed their own beliefs to cloud their judgment.

They knew him to be a monster but they wished for him to be a child. They saw his talks with Monroe as proof that he desired to be normal, that innocence was something he might still recapture. So in some ways he gave them what they wanted. He spoke, he discussed, he even occasionally argued with the good doctor on an assortment of issues, things he had studied in what he had begun to refer to as The Time Before. He was careful though, always careful, about what he let slip.

In his free time, when he wasn't being forced to banter back and forth with Monroe, he watched people. He observed their actions and reactions, the way they moved, the way they talked. He studied everything he could. Body language, word usage, the way they interacted with each other. He sifted through the various personalities he witnessed on the base, picking and choosing pieces here and there until he had drafted an outline of the one he desired for himself.

Slowly he began to craft it. He practiced his facial expressions in the bathroom, away from the ever watchful cameras, until his smile was less of a grimace and more of a smirk. He dissected the way people interacted with each other and quickly began to plan out his own responses to the many different scenarios he witnessed daily. He mimicked and mimed but he never really changed, instead he only exchanged one mask for another. It was all he really knew how to do.

Things changed slowly as his mimicry of the other humanoids on the base began to pay off. The adults around him became more malleable to his suggestions. He was not by any means allowed free access to the base because of his past record and his identity but he was given things to alleviate his boredom. When he expressed a slight interest the good Dr. Monroe even supplied him with a data padd loaded with various classic novels. It felt almost good to be able to read freely again.

When his birthday arrived he was offered his choice of presents by the doctor. He knew they would not give him his freedom so easily and though it made the wolf growl and rage at their audacity he knew they would allow him no contact with the others. It would be detrimental, in their eyes, to his progress. So after only a few seconds of silence he had voiced his request.

"The chains. Do you still have them?" He forced himself to ask the question instead of demanding it. He knew that they had them, knew that they had been kept, passed to this base as he and his pack had been, more of a relic of sorts than evidence.

"What chains J.T.?" Dr. Monroe questioned. He was not fooled by her supposed ignorance. She knew exactly what he was talking about. He could tell by the tilt of her eyes and the way she tugged almost nervously at her ear. His gaze narrowed slightly though he was careful to keep the wolf from shining in his eyes.

"The ones in which I arrived, the bonds that were used to hold me while on Tarsus." His bluntness might have shocked her had he been anyone else but J.T. knew that she found his request more unsettling. For him to desire possession of an object that was directly attached to what had to be a painful memory was no doubt troubling her. It had troubled him as well but for different reasons. While he had come to terms in his own way with the hold that Tarsus would always have on him he had no desire to actively hold on to it. Yet he desired those chains. It had taken him a moment before he had managed to figure it out.

It was not like before when he had discovered Kodos' orders and had clutched his growing rage to his breast in a desperate attempt to nurture it. He did not wish to nurse this close to his heart, to feed the pain and anguish he felt now with the memory of what he had felt then. He did not need the tainted strength that pain would feed him. He desired it for different reasons.

Those chains had been placed on him against his will, had held him, and bound him tight for the bastard who had tortured him. They had tasted his blood and his sweat, had been with him during his declaration to the children. They had escaped with him and rode with him to where he now resided. He wanted them because even if he had worn them for only a few days they were still a part of him, had witnessed too much to ever truly be clean. He wanted the reminder. He wanted to gaze at them and see not only the chains that they had bound him with but the ones that he had used to bind himself. The ones that stretched out and connected to his children, to Kevin.

He needed a physical reminder to keep him grounded. Something he could focus on and draw strength from in the future.

"I am not sure that I understand why you would ask for those out of all things for your birthday. Would you care to explain why?" Dr. Monroe was calm and collected but J.T. knew that she would weigh his response carefully before making her decision. He knew that in this situation at least a modicum of honesty would be necessary.

"They held me captive with those chains, were able to torture me because of them. For something to have had such power over me to still exist and be out of my reach is…disquieting." He forced the words out through clenched teeth, hoping that Monroe would mistake his difficulty in speaking as reluctance and not revulsion. The wolf growled and paced at having to admit a weakness, even if it was not one that truly existed in the context that he was using. "It may be foolish but it would help me to feel…secure to have them in my possession. It would help me to remember and to…cope."

Professionally cool eyes studied him then and he forced himself to tense only the slightest bit. He was careful to keep his body from advancing into battle readiness, knowing that while she was foolish in many ways she was observant. Her trained eyes could pick out the difference between tensing and preparing to attack. He had been working hard to mask those urges from others and as such he would not allow himself to ruin all of his hard work.

"I want you to understand that I am making no promises J.T., and that your request is an unusual one." Whatever she had found while she studied him must have been pleasing for her face softened a degree and her words were that same gentle, coaxing tone he had come to recognize. "It will take me some time to get you what you ask for based of course upon the notion that my superiors will even allow it. I will however try my best to grant you your wish."

"Thank you." His own words were soft, hesitant sounding, and he saw the almost triumph in her gaze for a split second before she quickly erased it. The ease in which she had agreed did nothing but support his previous conclusions. The adults were malleable if they were allowed to keep their illusions as to his innocence. He would play the marionette with twisted strings, the willful child and the tamed animal for them on the surface but beneath it all they would never know that he was the puppet master. A wolf they would never truly collar, never truly tame, a monster hiding behind the face of a child.

He would give them exactly what they wanted while being everything they feared.

* * *

A week passed and then another and J.T.'s patience was quickly wearing thin. He had been almost passive in his pursuit of his chains, not questioning Monroe or demanding answers from her like he deeply wished to. Yet even as his patience was reaching an end he was not foolish enough to confront her. Instead he took the data padd, the one he had stolen on the _Farragut_ and the smuggled onto the base, and set to work.

It was difficult. He had to bypass the base security and tweak the data padds signal so that it read like a carbon copy of one of the medical teams' personal padds, but after a handful of dedicated hours he managed to do it. He would not directly confront Monroe about her inability to comply with his requests in a timely manner, but that did not mean he would not seek out answers on his own. Curling up on his now solitary pallet in his room, his back pressed firmly to the wall as always and his padd held at a careful angel from the cameras, he set to work.

The doctor's security was laughable and within seconds he was surfing through her personal communications log like she had given him the key herself. It didn't take him long to find the letter she had sent to the base command and he found himself slightly surprised that she had actually bothered to put his request in at all. He'd had very little faith that she would have actually done as she'd said, thus him hacking into her padd.

Their response was expected and succinct, a rather pointed 'Why?' in regards to his request. Monroe had replied in his favor, using masses of terminology and what looked to be borderline threats that basically amounted to 'Because he needs it and I'm his therapist that's why.' The letters continued on like that for a while, a battle of wills and wit revolving around whether or not his request was proper. Though it had still not been resolved he was at least satisfied that it was actually being discussed.

J.T. was more than slightly surprised in all honesty that Dr. Monroe was trying as hard as she was to fulfill his request. In his experience adults were normally not interested in what he had to say, they tended to brush off his words and opinions as those of a child and thus unimportant. It did not in any way mean he trusted the woman; he wasn't naïve enough to believe she was doing this solely for his benefit. A case like his could make her career. Being the Starfleet therapist who counseled the feral Tarsus boy and his young would take her far if she managed to be successful in her endeavors with him.

Still while she wasn't worthy of trust she was useful and that was more than J.T. was used to being able to attribute to the adults around him. Unable to repress his almost reflexive snort J.T. turned his attention back to ransacking the doctor's database. After all it was always a good idea to know your enemies, be they real or potential.

Monroe's personal database was actually a bit fascinating for him and almost unwillingly he was drawn into her case files. Her notes and documents were meticulous and well developed and she seemed to find the use of short hand repugnant.

Mainly she dealt with basic cases, her patients running the gamut from simply stressed to a smattering of trauma cases. Each of her files was well filled out and J.T. could see how she was considered a competent therapist and why she had been given his cases. Trauma was only one of the taglines that he knew was being used in reference to what had happened on Tarsus.

The wolf growled slightly within him, surprisingly not really out of rage or any other high level emotion but more out of a mild sense of indignation. _They would dare and try to classify what had happened with such mundane terms._ Shaking his head sharply he went back to his reading, the wolf still pacing restlessly, its presence growing stronger every moment but he had no need of it now.

Hours and dozens of cases later, after finding out that one Ensign Ri'Tavik was frightened of water and that one of the Communications Officers had been frequently abused as a child, he found something that really peeked his interest.

A sealed file with some of the highest required clearance he had ever stumbled across entitled simply T400JT1. He recognized the number instantly as the serial code Monroe always used at the beginning of their sessions. He'd finally stumbled across his own file and it was locked up tighter than almost anything he had ever come across.

He smirk slightly to himself, a beautiful and yet terrible thing, and bent himself diligently once more over his padd. There wasn't a clearance level on this base that could keep him out of something if he truly desired information. Needless to say he would not be backing away now without finding out exactly what they knew about him.

It took him longer than he expected to hack through the clearance but he refused to stop for anything until he had managed to slip and bust his way through the security field. Finally though, well into the night cycle of the base he managed to break through.

The file was extensive.

J.T. started at the beginning, read as they documented the recovery of him and his pack, his heart beating faster with every word. A red haze began to creep in around the corners of his vision as he saw everything they had been through laid out in cold medical terms. The wolf roared to life as the earlier stirring of indignation rose again, this time colored heavily with the nearly crippling rage that was threatening to overtake him. It took every ounce of will power he possessed to force the feral thing back, to keep himself from unleashing the violence within him like he had done when the children were taken.

He could not afford the setback it would cause.

He forced himself to keep his head as he clenched his teeth down on his lower lip until he tasted blood. The coppery taste helped to calm him some. The control he had over his own body helped him to gain the mental strength to push the rage back down, to stifle it like he had done so many times before and to keep reading.

The majority of the files in the beginning dealt with the medical information that had been compiled during his stay in the med-bay of the _Farragutt_, the documents dry and clinical. There were a few added notes though, things that looked like they had been added at a later time that caught his attention. Interested he read the one attached to his last medical chart over silently.

'_Along with extensive scar tissue resulting from profound physical abuse while on Tarsus the patient also exhibits a set of precision scars in the form of words across his pectoral area. The words, _Nam-tor karik _and _Rish-tor_, while at first unrecognized were later sent to the Communications Department. The terms were immediately identified as Vulcan and are reported to translate to _Be Strong _and _Survive_ respectfully. The angle of the scars suggests that the wounds were self-inflicted. This along with a complete medical work up and a full body scan that shows evidence of what may be past physical abuse warrants an immediate investigation and recommended sessions with a counselor.' _

J.T. dropped the padd, his fingers going uncharacteristically numb in light of the information he had just absorbed. He had known somewhere distantly in the back of his mind that it was possible for them to identify the age of some of his injuries. Yet faced with the reality of it he was momentarily stunned. The main thing though was the fact that finally, finally the words that had been seared into his mind and carved freely into his flesh had a meaning.

'Vulcan.' His mind reeled with the thought. The words were real, the language existed. He wasn't crazy; his mind had not fractured under the stress of his home life or a head injury and created a nonexistent entity.

This was proof.

J.T. didn't know Vulcan, had purposely avoided languages in his studies out of the sheer fear it would prove him more unstable than he already knew he was. This though, this validated all the faith he had once had. For a single moment he allowed himself to bask in the beauty of such a thing. Then just as suddenly the rest of the situation crashed into his mind.

If the words were real and the voice was real then somewhere out there was a being who had invaded his mind. Someone had wormed their way inside his thoughts, had spoken with him, comforted him, made him feel loved and safe for the first time every.

More importantly someone else had abandoned him, had shut him out and rejected him when he'd reached out frantic in his need. This person who had crawled inside his mind and lived there for years had suddenly wanted nothing to do with him, had felt the need to close him out completely.

Not even a stranger inside his mind could bear to stay with him. The thought was almost agonizing and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. Inside the recess of his mind the wolf howled once more _how dare they invade his mind, force hope to take root in his soul only to rip it out on a whim? There would be blood when he found them, blood and flesh and screams of pain. They would rue their intrusion._

His eyes clenched closed and his hands tightened around the edges of his padd so hard he felt the frame creak before he loosened his grip. Slowly he forced his eyes back open, staring but not seeing the padd in front of him. He took a shuttering breath and then another. The process was slow but he forced the agony and the rage, the bitter tearing of an old rejection being revisited, into the recesses of his mind.

Forcing his focus back down onto the padd in front of him he continued to breathe slowly. A single thought reverberating inside of his mind, a snarled loop of hatred and pain. Words set to the music that was the agony of his soul. He had another task to see to in his future now.

_When I find them, find the voice, they'll choke on their blood for what they did._

* * *

AN: I know it is shorter than everyone would like especially given the length of time since my last update but I am afraid it was unavoidable. Major changes are coming for J.T. in the future so this felt like the best place to end this chapter. I look forward to your input! And as always if you have any 5 and 1 ideas or one shot ideas you would like to see please send me a message or leave a review. I am always looking for more inspiration!


	11. The Ugly Duckling

**Another Big 'Ol AN**: First of all I would like to extend an invitation to everyone who is reading this!

Come check out my blog about Bedtime Stories. It is open to the public and I welcome any and all questions and comments. I am always looking for new people to talk with so please stop by. The details are in my profile.

As for Bedtime Stories; things are changing for J.T. so if he seems a little of kilter or emotionally unstable (like he totally wasn't before o.O) then you must remember to take into account the fact that things are changing for him an awful lot. As always any questions or concerns can been addressed to me via p.m., e-mail, Tumblr (under the same name as here) or even Facebook.

Anyways thank you all for the support and the wonderful reviews from the last chapter. Once again if you review and would like a response please make sure that your private messages are enabled so that I can respond. I try my best to write back to each and every one of you in some way.

I hope you like this chapter!

Oh and to Nissa: I laughed like a horrible crazy person when I read your review because I got it literally two seconds before I was about to update. Hopefully you won't take that whole minx thing back cause I have to say I kind of like it!

Disclaimer: Well I've said it all before…

* * *

**The Ugly Duckling**

* * *

J.T. has never really had a home.

He reconfirms that thought within his own mind now, as he stares out the portside window of the shuttle craft that is taking him to his next destination. Hell he'd realized that fact for the first time when he'd been small, _tiny and angry and oh so hurt. He'd been bloody and bruised and a part of him still so confused over the fact that he was welcome nowhere, wanted nowhere. He was a homeless orphan with two parents and a house_.

Tarsus had been one of the closest things he had ever had, the closest he knows he is likely to ever come, to having a place where he might belong. Yet it too had been ruined, murdered with phaser blasts and hunger. The good memories distorted by the anguish and the agony that had followed. _For there had been good memories; hard work and clean living, days and nights with Kevin, hours of peace and silence, weeks without pain. _

There were things about that place that he would never forget, would always in some part of himself cherish, almost despite himself. _He'd slept there, slept and woken up and been rested. He'd slept and woken and not felt less than himself, had not felt it to be a weakness. Not like in Iowa. He'd touched another person and had not felt dirty; had not wanted to scrub himself until he bled or crawl out of his own skin. Not like with Frank._

Those moments were something he would always hold onto. They had been so very beautiful while they had lasted. _They had tasted like dappled sunshine and rain. Like sweet summer nights and early morning fog caressing his skin. Like sugar and spice and everything nice. Like things he knew better than to want for himself. _

They had also been so very fragile, so breakable and light. _They had shattered like glass and spun sugar, like fairytales and bedtime stories. Like precious crystal in his hands. He destroyed everything he touched it seemed._

Sometimes he wondered if it would have been different had he not existed at all. Would there be a few more precious and beautiful people _Marixia, Leo, William, Kathleen, Zafrina, and Ixia, _in the world if he did not ruin everything he was involved in?

The wolf within him growled at his thoughts, _destruction was natural, was right. To destroy was to make room for creation, for what you deemed worthy of life. The loss of pack was horrible, was worthy of vengeance and blood and yet you did not let it rule you. Blood and flesh and existence were the currencies of life. Regret for destroyed things accomplished nothing, did nothing but chain you. _

The pack had been another refuge for him _for if home was where your heart was, where your emotions lived and grew, the pack was that for him. If he had ever had a heart, had ever possessed one, and he was fairly certain that he had not, at least not a whole and healthy one, he knew that Kevin and his children held it in all of its shattered glory._

Even that was gone now, stolen by the rules and regulations of a society that he no longer fit into. Indeed he can not remember a time when he had ever fit into it, had ever conformed to their desires and carefully shaped molds. Even now the wolf rebelled against the thought itself, threw its snarling body against the ever weakening bars of his control at the mere thought of becoming a fangless sheep.

So he stares out his window now, watching as the craft breaks through the atmosphere of his home world. He's seated in the very back of the shuttle, wedged between the two giant slabs of plexi-glass that the port side and rear of the craft was made up of. He could not resist the urge to twist around in his spot, to latch his eyes onto the sight of space as he leaves it behind once again, this time for who knows how long.

He raises his hands, first one and then the other, and presses them firmly against the glass the same way he had the day he'd left Tarsus. He examines them in that moment as he had done then. His nails are even now, smooth and rounded off, short enough for him to be comfortable but long enough that he could tear skin with them if he were truly determined to do so. _The wolf was almost pleased at that, at the thought of having even the slightest hint of claws to match the almost fanged smirk he had developed._

His fingers are still crooked though; the breaks and fractures that had warped them were too old to be fixed by Starfleet Medical. Just as the scars that littered his frame had been too deep and too long healed to be erased, even if he had wanted them to be.

His eyes are drawn as always to the shiny steel bracelets that adorn both of his wrists. At least they looked like bracelets now, looked like so much jewelry and flash but he knew the truth of them. He knew about the blood that they had absorbed, about the fact that no matter how brightly they shined they would never be clean, _just like him._

He'd been surprised the day he'd received them; despite the fact that his trip through Monroe's files had told him of her continued attempts to retrieve them. He'd been surprised by their appearance, at the gleaming metal that had greeted his eyes when he'd first opened the box in which they had rested.

Monroe had told him later that she had taken the liberty of having them cleaned and sanded down until they were as smooth as glass. That she'd had all but those last links on the side of each cuff cut off. That after a discreet request to a friend in engineering she'd had something else special added. He had not understood that until he'd actually picked them up, until the light had refracted off the words that spanned the insides of the cuffs.

Scrolled across the inside of the left cuff were the words, _For all those loved and lost, Tarsus IV_ and inside the right cuff, each positioned to always press against opposite sides of his wrist were two names.

_Zafrina and Ixia._

He'd been confused in a way, unsure as to why she would do such a thing, why she would bother to do something extra for him. A part of him, not the wolf but another quieter part of him, had wondered over the fact that he had not been displeased with her presumptuousness. It had taken him a moment to realize that it was because he was pleased, that he actually liked the words, liked the gesture she had made. He had not let it show, had refused to be that truly vulnerable in front of her. Instead he had removed them from the box and clasped them firmly around his wrists.

They had not been removed since then.

His gaze wondered onwards, past his hands and out into the quickly disappearing space behind him. He does not truly wish to leave, does not want to be parted from the stars and yet he will not fight it because he knows it is just one step closer to freedom. To Kevin and the pack.

He just wonders silently to himself how long it will be before he is able to return.

He vows it will not be forever.

Just as nothing will ever truly take his children from him, nothing will ever separate him from space completely. If he has to build a shuttle bit by bit with his own two hands, if he has to steal or kill for it, he will be back in space again. He will experience again the bliss of being surrounded on all sides by nothing and yet at the same time by everything.

He knows that he is leaving a piece of his blackened heart and twisted soul _what small pieces that are left in him, what few he had that he had not already gifted to Kevin and the pack,_ in the stars.

It is another piece of himself that he knows he will never get back.

He doesn't even pretend for a second that he actually wants to.

* * *

He's standing in the courtyard of a closed recovery ward in San Francisco, relishing the feel of _life and peace _soft green grass beneath his bare feet and the sun on his face. He's spent most of his time outside since he'd gotten there; taking every opportunity he has been given to soak up the warmth and fresh non-recycled air.

In a way it helps to assuage some of the loneliness that eats at him, the bitter pain of no longer having the pack around him _of days without low laughter and delicate golden brown hair, of nights without little warm bodies and precious soft breaths against his neck._ Sometimes the sun and grass help with the feeling of slowly creeping death that has been haunting him since their rescue, an irony that does not escape him.

It feels almost as if the heat and light can cleanse him. It's as if the sun and the wind can burn and blow away all those things within him that are dirty and wrong, sick and dieing. It feels that way but the ball of blood and vengeance, of anger and pain, of anguish and loss that has always been lodged firmly in his chest tells him otherwise.

So he's fourteen now, fourteen years, three months, six days, seventeen hours and a handful of minutes and he's staring up at the blue sky of Earth. The sky that he knows from his studies had once been clouded and dismal with the pollution of the human race. That sky that he knows was once sick but is now whole, is no longer dirty and tainted _unlike him_. He almost hates it, _almost because he can't really hate it since that same sky houses Kevin and most of the others now. He'd tear it down or hold it up to keep them safe, no matter how far apart they are._

He's being tested tomorrow, going to be locked in a room with six adults, a stack of padds and only his own wits and skills to get him through. The doctors and therapists in charge of him, Monroe included, had wanted to spread the exams out, had wanted to give him time to study and to prepare but he had refused. After all it had been they who had suggested that school would be a good idea for him, that the work and the routine would help him to recover more smoothly.

They had his test scores from his years in public schooling and the classes that he had taken while in his juvenile detention facility. They even had the scores from the dozen or so classes he had managed to complete in his online curriculum in those first few months on Tarsus. They knew he was a genius, knew that he had been forced to stay in a public school when he should have been in a private one. They knew that he had been restricted by the detention facilities inability to give him study courses that truly challenged him.

They knew that by his test scores alone he had been able to test out of high school for years now and he had just never had the chance.

What they did not know about were the extensive studies he had done on his own. They were unaware of the days he had spent crouched over his data padds absorbing knowledge like a sponge. They did not know about his expertise in gadgetry outside of small notations in his files. Also hidden were his advanced studies on mechanics and engineering, things he had learned about on Tarsus from the extra material that Marixia and Leo had always been giving him.

He would show them just how far ahead of the curve he truly was, for they had no idea.

"J.T." The voice came from his left from the stocky body of Piotr, the orderly that had been assigned to shadow his every move. Starfleet had finally wised up and realized that leaving him to his own devices was an entirely too potentially dangerous idea. Instead they were trying to put him back into school and had given him a baby sitter; as if Piotr's presence would ever truly deter him from a goal or an action.

J.T. wondered if there would ever be a day when their idiocy ceased to surprise him.

He was pretty sure the answer to that was no.

Still though he was not particularly perturbed by Piotr's constant presence. If anything the older male was in a way calming, his silent and watchful gaze almost reminding J.T. of Tom's soothing personality. Even the wolf had calmed a bit in his presence though not by much _he was so like Tom, felt so like pack at times that it was hard to remember that he wasn't, hard to remember just how quickly he could become the enemy. _So he was careful to shutter and erase all traces of his normal edgy venom from his expression when he turned slowly on his heal and arched a single brow in inquiry.

Piotr took his silence in stride as he always did, choosing instead to gesture vaguely back towards the building with his hand, his black curls glinting blue in the sunlight. "Our time is up for the day. We must return to the building now."

J.T. nodded slowly. While he hated the time constraints that had been placed on him he would not fight them. Now was not the time for such things even though the wolf seemed to slam itself against the bars of his control each and every time he was forced back inside.

Each time someone gave him a thinly veiled order in the form of a suggestion he had to grit his teeth and force the wolf back down. _How dare they spout orders and directions, treat him as a child or a subordinate, these pathetic humans whose blood would run fresh and sweet across his tongue while he ate their hearts_? The beast within him had grown even more difficult to deal with, even more difficult to appease and control since their return to Earth. His only peace came now when he had managed to convince it that he was not stopping, not slowing down, that this was a time for subtlety and stealth.

Now was the time for tests and for change, for trickery and masks.

Some day he would be able have his fill of sunshine and warmth again, would sleep on sweet grass and bathe in starlight.

He gazed one last time at the bright blue sky _like Tarsus, so like Tarsus but so different so strange now_, before he began his steady trek back to the building, Piotr trailing behind him.

Someday he would have his freedom _for this was but another cage, another snare designed to hold him, to break him but he would not yield, he would claw his way through flesh and steal and die before yielding_ until then he would play the game.

He would play and he would win.

* * *

To say that the tests went as he had expected they would go would be an understatement; _the wolf bared his teeth in smug satisfaction for they were all so very foolish to underestimate him still in any manner_.

He'd arrived on time and paced his way into the room, eyes taking in the proctors who would be administering his exams. They had been nothing special; barely even note worthy. Once everyone had been settled they had read through the rules and regulations, much to his annoyance, and had gotten started. He'd zipped through the exam files in their entirety in a little under an hour. When he'd announced his completion they had all been faintly surprised; it seemed as if they had been made aware of what he was capable of but had not truly believed it.

It had taken only seconds after that for them to activate the auto-grade function on the padds. Needless to say his scores had been beyond impressive, had he been in a college level class he would have completely wrecked the grading curve. Or so they told him.

It was in this way that J.T. quickly found himself immersed in knowledge. The directors and staff had been more than happy to sign him up for as many classes as he could possibly want; all of them advanced programs in which he could go as fast or as slow as he desired. J.T. ate the knowledge in a ferocious way, desperate to always learn more, to know the inner workings of anything and everything he could.

There were so many new things that he had never been able to get his hands on before.

This was not to say that he did not keep up with his other studies; he far from abandoned his survival education or his physical abilities. Especially after he had learned just how truly valuable they could be.

His therapy sessions were something that had also carried over to Earth; Dr. Monroe having elected to follow him all the way from Starbase Three. Apparently she thought that switching therapists at so far into his recover would be highly detrimental. She claimed that they had developed a rapport of some kind; J.T. had barely repressed a snort at the thought. He knew that she had other motives, knew that she was studying him, detailing his every response and action. He was a science experiment, a case study in the making. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still though he cared little for her opinion so it did not bother him. He let her have her secrecy and her notes, let her tap away at her padd from around corners and doors. She meant nothing and as such she truly knew nothing.

So he studied to his hearts content and worked tirelessly on building up his mimicry skills; in carefully crafting the persona he desired. He had set the ground work on Starbase Three in the beginning and had begun to smooth over the foundations during his therapy sessions after the children were taken. He took full advantage of his own foresight as he twisted and molded, burned and cut away pieces of what he wanted them to perceive, always working, always shaping this new personality that he wanted to show them.

Just as he had found out in the past he once again discovered that his improvements and cooperation were met eagerly with rewards. This time in the form of longer periods outside in the sun and air and access to even more study materials. They were trying to treat him like a small child or a willful puppy; following orders meant treats and prizes, verbal pats on the head for being a good boy.

The only issue was the fact that he was more than fully aware of the game. He was willing to play tame for the moment, although the wolf snarled and thrashed more often than not at the idea_ enraged at the thought of playing pet, of even pretending to be anything but a predator._ He managed to hold it back with whispers of schemes and weapons built from new technology, _pretty, shiny new claws and fangs to rip and shred with, oh how they would fear him even more if they only knew the things he was learning_ and thoughts of the pack and reunions with Kevin.

So he took the pats and the praise, the rewards and the treats, and let them wash over and behind him like water _because no matter what they said, no matter how bright and wonderful they tried to tell him he was he knew the truth. Knew what was beneath the glitter and the gold that he had slowly begun to construct around himself. Knew the monstrous thing beneath his smirk and behind his eyes; could feel it clawing its way through his mind each morning and his soul each night._

Whatever he asked for he received when it came to his lessons and before long he was on his way to degrees in many of them. Applied Physics and Advanced Science as well as Advanced Mathematics and Engineering were what interested him the most. It would take a few years even at his level to gain degrees in those areas but he was determined to have them, determined to have these long term goals to help keep him grounded, to help keep him human.

He needed all the help he could get even out of the war zone of Tarsus he was still slipping further into the darkness._ He was still moving further and further away from human in the way that his mind worked; held back only by the cuffs on his wrists and the promises he had made._

There were other things that captured his interest that he took care of in a shorter amount of time as well. Things such as botany _because if the fungus ever came back, ever ravaged another of his would be homes he wanted to be able to understand it, to be able to fight it or to find alternative food sources beyond simple leaves and berries_. Xenobiology was another interest _humans were not the only danger, not the only ones who could kill and destroy so he wanted to know how they worked, how they bled and how they died. Or how to keep them living, keep them breathing if he had to, if he wanted to._

Those classes were exceptionally easy and he went through them and their like in no time at all.

Six months in Dr. Monroe actually surprises him with a gift, with something that almost makes him want to thank her even if he doesn't. She gives him a pass, a simple plastic card that is d.n.a coded to him and him alone. A bit of technology that is his gateway to something he has been missing for months and is the one thing that he has not been able to hack his way around.

It was an access card, the piece of tech that he needed to run the communication console in his room. He could finally use the numbers and the addresses that had not stopped running through his mind since the day he'd committed them to memory.

He could finally call his children.

* * *

J.T. was nervous. It is an emotion that he has little experience with; it had even taken him a few moments to puzzle out just what it was he was feeling in the first place.

He knows that feeling that way is ridiculous, that hesitating for even a second to call Kevin is absurd. Despite that he can not help the way his fingers freeze over the controls or the way the air seizes in his lungs. Questions circle in his mind, things that have constantly plagued him but have been forced back through sheer force of will. They rise up now, determined to no longer be ignored, forcing him to consider them and the consequences if they happened to be true.

What if Kevin wasn't happy? What if he had needed J.T. and he hadn't been there? What if he didn't?

Worse was the idea that perhaps Kevin thought that he had abandoned him. He'd promised his pup, had sworn to him that he would never truly leave him that he would always protect him, and yet it had been so long since they had seen each other. Too much time had passed since they had last spoke or J.T. had held Kevin _his sunshine, his warmth, a living breathing piece of his heart and soul_ in his arms as the younger boy slept.

In contrast what if Kevin no longer wanted him, no longer needed him? What purpose would he have now? What goal to strive for besides the drive to live for livings sake? He had no true interest in life, had no compelling desire to do anything but learn, care for his pack, and survive. Not even the wolf had discovered another driving force, another reason for existence besides the desperate need to simply survive.

An ugly thought forced its way forward, creeping out of the recesses of his mind, from a place that he had steadfastly ignored even as it tore at him. Had the adults in his pup's life tried to turn Kevin against him? Would they succeed? Had they succeeded already?

He was moving in that next second, a haze of crimson rage drawn like a curtain across his eyes. He tore through his quarters ripping apart everything he could get his hands on, upending the desk, shattering the 3-D chess set against the wall. He was destruction incarnate in those moments as he had been in his rooms on Starbase Three when the last of the children had been taken.

The wolf snarled and raged, the tips of its claws breaking past the bonds of J.T.'s control, ripping through his mind and leaving him bleeding and savage. In that instance, for a split second J.T. and the wolf were one and their rage was magnificent. _They would rip and tear, would slaughter all who dared to turn their child, their pup, against them. If they had dared then they would die, would die screaming in agony praying to their gods for mercy. They would receive none._

Determination ripped through him, a harsh accompaniment to the rage that was quickly saturating his being. He would kill them all for what they might have done. He would tear through them just as he had on Tarsus, would give them no quarter. He flowed across the room, the door to the hallway his destination.

Only this time something interfered.

Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, the force and weight of them pinning his clawing hands to his sides. He jerked his head down, determined to latch his teeth onto skin, to be freed so he could slaughter whoever had dared to touch him. _No one touched him who was not pack, it was not allowed, not welcomed_. The arms moved down before his teeth found purchase, hands hooking around his elbows, effectively neutralizing the threat from his mouth as well as his hands and arms.

Rage bit down even harder on his senses at that moment, a familiar and yet unknown feeling. This rage was not the normal icy anger that usually drove him. Instead this rage was molten; a burning seething inferno that rolled beneath his skin and writhed behind his eyes.

He fought, struggled viciously against the force that held him, his feet trying desperately to find a hold, to hit vulnerable flesh. Anything to free him, anything to no longer be held _to be restrained was to be at the mercy of another, was unacceptable. He would never allow himself to be beaten, to be whipped again. Not when there was not anyone else there for them to threaten him with. Not when he had only himself to look after._

He felt the moment that the situation changed, felt the foot that hooked around his ankle and forced him to his knees. He struggled harder, twisted and thrashed in his spot on the floor but it was no use. The body behind him was heavy and strong, so much stronger than J.T. as it bore him down to the ground, forcing him to lay face down on the floor.

He screamed a long loud feral noise that voiced his rage and anguish aloud. Panting he refused to stop struggling, refused to give up his fight. _He would never stop fighting, would never give up a battle and retreat as long as he held breath in his lungs. Not again._

A voice sounded around him then, whispering in a language that he did not know. His mind immediately flashed to thoughts of the voice, his once upon a time solace and companion and the memory of it froze him to the core. He'd longed for its return before he'd discovered the truth, had begged and pleaded with it in desperation. To hear it again filled him with both rage and an almost pleasurable pain. It also forced the flames to retreat from his skin, to cause the bubbling lava behind his eyes to cool and harden.

Deep inside he seethed at the fact that even if he hated it he still longed for it. Still cherished it despite the betrayal it represented.

Those thoughts were erased in the next second though when he realized that the words he had heard did not come from within his mind but behind him. He recognized the tone of that voice, the soft slur of the words as they passed through pink lips. He could see them in his head, knew now who it was who had restrained him so effortlessly.

Piotr.

"Такой гнев Вы несете. Успокойте себя небольшой волк. Будьте все еще." His voice was soft and slow, the tone almost rhythmic as he spoke.

J.T. could not help but respond; could not help but allow the cadence of those words to overtake his senses. The wolf within him snarled and thrashed but J.T. could tell that even its anger was weakening, that its rage was being washed away in the tide of soothing words. He felt his body beginning to relax, felt his muscles beginning to uncoil themselves one by one as all the while Piotr whispered calming words in his ear.

Finally the last of the fight began to seep out of J.T. _not really, he had too much fight to ever lose it all but some of it could be stifled, could be shut away and hidden for a time_ and he stilled on the floor. Piotr held him there for a moment longer, his large muscular body a warm and heavy weight against J.T.'s back. He was finally calm but he knew that Piotr was waiting to make sure that he would not try and lash out again; that he was done for the moment with his attempts at violence.

J.T. forced himself to take a deep breath, to release it slowly as he bottled away any remnants of his rage to use at a later time _such emotions were powerful, would give him strength and resolve unlike any other if he ever needed it again and he knew that one day he would._ He felt Piotr release his hold, felt the absence of the Russian's warmth as he levered himself to his feet.

He realized in that moment just how far he had fallen.

The wolf urged J.T. to gain his feet, to crouch in the corner of the room and to prepare himself to spring _to rip and tear, to make this fool bleed crimson on the white tile of the floor for what he had done. no matter the fact that he reminded him of pack. He wasn't pack, not really and thus he deserved no mercy._

J.T. resisted the compulsion, determined not to give into the wolf, determined to maintain control of himself in all ways. Losing himself in such a way was unacceptable; if Piotr had been the enemy he would have been dead, his life's blood flowing across the tile due to his own stupidity. Piotr had gotten into the room, had laid hands on J.T. before he had even been aware of his presence and had taken him down in an instance. Such strength was impressive, should be studied and learned if at all possible.

So instead of rising, instead of crouching and preparing to attack he simply rolled onto his back and stared up at Piotr's bulky form, cataloguing everything he could about him. They regarded each other in that moment, steel eyes meeting warm brown across the distance between them. There was something in Piotr's eyes _understanding, acceptance, not rage or disgust and that was so very rare _that caused something to shift in J.T.'s chest, some disjointed piece of him realigning itself with an almost audible click.

"What you did, how you took me down, what is it called?" J.T.'s voice was soft and low, a calculated decision on his part to set the mood in the room. He did not wish to antagonize Piotr, not when the man had information that J.T. could not steal from him. He needed a teacher, not an adversary or a victim.

"It is called Systema, an ancient Russian fighting form that uses the body's levers as both a weapon and a weakness." Piotr's voice was just as soft and his eyes were sharp with a knowledge that J.T. was not used to seeing in anyone besides himself. "It requires discipline and control of the body on a high level."

"Teach me?" J.T. phrased it as a question when he desperately wanted it to be an order. He needed this, needed some way to channel the anger and the rage so that it did not over take him again. He could not afford to allow the wolf to gain another foothold within him, could not let it run free in his mind or he would lose himself. It was so much stronger than he had ever thought it would become.

"To learn you must trust me and to trust me you must acknowledge the truth of yourself. Can you do this thing? Can you face your own demons and make them your servants so that you are never again ruled by the rage you just displayed?" Piotr asked his questions with an intensity that caused every nerve in J.T.'s body to light themselves on fire.

To tame the wolf, to make it his servant and no longer his equal would be a wondrous thing. If he could master that monster, if he could master himself then he would be unstoppable, would no longer be vulnerable from within. Yet to trust in someone else was an unheard of thing, a concept that he did not even enjoy considering. The best that he could do would be to fake it, to try his damndest to convince Piotr of his sincerity.

Determined and set on his new course of action J.T. met Piotr's eyes fearlessly once again. "If that is what takes then I shall endeavor to do so."

That same knowledge from before flashed in Piotr's eyes and J.T. knew that the older man had not been fooled. Instead of calling him out on his lie, instead of outright refusing him Piotr nodded and held out his hand to J.T.'s still prone form.

"Then your first lesson starts now." That hand remained steady and strong in J.T.'s line of sight and he found that once he turned his eyes to it he could not look away.

It symbolized too much, _acceptance and knowledge, trust in a way he was not familiar or comfortable with_.

The wolf raged against the newly reinforced bars that held it back, desperate to stop J.T., desperate to keep the ground that it had claimed, the pieces of his mind that it had overtaken. To accept Piotr's hand was to begin his training, to begin tightening his hold over the wolf and his struggle to tame it. To accept was to strive to one day hold the wolf's leash, to make it a tool and a servant for J.T.'s own desires. Something to unleash and unmuzzle only when he truly needed it.

The wolf howled and raged and J.T. slowly, oh so slowly reached up and clasped Piotr's hand in his.

He had never before backed down from a challenge and he was not willing to start now.

_For if J.T. could not change the outcome then he would change his world._

* * *

AN: So that's it for this chapter please do tell me what you think and make sure you stop by my profile and take the link to the Bedtime Stories blog. I really do hope that you guys will come and talk with me!

Translations:

Такой гнев Вы несете. = Such rage you carry.

Успокойте себя небольшой волк. Будьте все еще. = Calm yourself little wolf. Be still.


End file.
